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MOTHER STORIES 

/ BY 

MAUD LINDSAY 


ILLUSTRATED by Sarah Noble-Ives 


Mother^ a story told at the right time 
Is a looking-glass for the mindl* 

F R O E B E L 


MILTON BRADLEY COMPANY 

SPRINGFIELD MASS. 1900 
U ' 


1105 


Librairy of Congress, 

Two Copies Received 



JAN 3 1901 


oOje. <L, *y, / 7 o 
No . - 


Copyright entry 




SECOND COPY 


Ortivorer! to 


0RDt« UlVISlON 


JAN 8 1901 


COPYRIGHT 1 900 
BY MILTON BRADLEY COMPANY 
SPRINGFIELD MASS. 


TYPOGRAPHY BY 
THE HEINTZEMANN PRESS 
BOSTON 


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PRESSWORK & BINDING 
H. M. PLIMPTON & COMPANY 
NORWOOD 






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Dedicated 
to My Mother 




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PREFACE 


I have endeavored to write, for mothers 
and dear little children, a few simple stories, 
embodying some of the truths of FroebePs 
Mother Play. 

The Mother Play is such a vast treasure 
house of Truth, that each one who seeks 
among its stores may bring to light some 
gem ; and though, perhaps, I have missed 
its diamonds and rubies, I trust my string 
of pearls may find acceptance with some 
mother who is trying to live with her 
children. 

I have written my own mottoes, with a 
few exceptions, that I might emphasize 
the particular lesson which I endeavor to 
teach in the story ; for every motto in the 
Mother Play comprehends so much that 
it is impossible to use the whole for a 
single subject. From ‘‘The Bridge’’ for in- 
stance, which is replete with lessons, I have 
taken only one, — for the story of the 
“Little Traveler.” 

Most of these stories have been told and 


PREFACE 


retold to little children, and are surround- 
ed, in my eyes, by a halo of listening faces. 

‘‘ Mrs. Tabby Gray ” is founded on a true 
story of a favorite cat. ‘‘ The Journey ” is a 
new version of the old Stage Coach game, 
much loved by our grandmothers; and I 
am indebted to some old story, read in 
childhood, for the suggestion of ‘‘Dust 
Under the Rug,'’ which was a successful 
experiment in a kindergarten to test the 
possibility of interesting little children in 
a story after the order of Grimm, with the 
wicked stepmother and her violent daugh- 
ter eradicated. 

Elizabeth Peabody says we are all free to 
look out of each other's windows ; and so I 
place mine at the service of all who care 
to see what its tiny panes command. 

Maud Lindsay. 


LIST 

OF 

STORIES 


PAGE 

The Wind’s Work i 

Mrs. Tabby Gray 9 

Fleet Wing and Sweet Voice 17 

The Little Girl with the Light 27 

The Little Gray Pony 37 

How the Home Was Built 45 

The Little Traveler 55 

The Open Gate 65 

Inside the Garden Gate 75 

The Journey 99 

Giant Energy and Fairy Skill 109 

The Search for a Good Child 1 2 1 

The Closing Door 137 

The Minstrel’s Song 145 

Dust Under the Rug 155 

The Story of Gretchen 165 

The King’s Birthday 175 



I 


THE WIND'S WORK 


I 


MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER 

Power invisible that God reveals^ 

The child within all nature feels^ 

Like the great wind that unseen goes. 

Yet helps the world's work as it blows. 


Z 


THE 

WIND’S WORK 


One morning Jan waked up very early, 
and the first thing he saw when he opened 
his eyes was his great kite in the corner. 
His big brother had made it for him; and 
it had a smiling face, and a long tail that 
reached from the bed to the fireplace. It 
did not smile at Jan that morning though, 
but looked very sorrowful and seemed to 
say ‘‘Why was I made? Not to stand in a 
corner, I hope ! ’’ for it had been finished 
for two whole days and not a breeze had 
blown to carry it up like a bird in the air. 

Jan jumped out of bed, dressed himself, 
and ran to the door to see if the windmill 
on the hill was at work ; for he hoped that 
the wind had come in the night. But the 
mill was silent and its arms stood still. Not 
even a leaf turned over in the yard. 

The windmill stood on a high hill where 
all the people could see it, and when its long 
arms went whirling around every one knew 

3 


MOTHER STORIES 


that there was no danger of being hungry, 
for then the Miller was busy from morn to 
night grinding the grain that the farmers 
brought him. 

When J an looked out, however, the Mil- 
ler had nothing to do, and was standing in 
his doorway, watching the clouds, and say- 
ing to himself (though Jan could not hear 
him) : — 

“ Oh ! how I wish the wind would blow 
So that my windmilVs sails might go. 

To turn my heavy millstones round! 

For corn and wheat must both be ground. 
And how to grind I do not know 
Unless the merry wind will blow.” 

He sighed as he spoke, for he looked 
down in the village, and saw the Baker in 
neat cap and apron, standing idle too. 

The Baker’s ovens were cold, and his 
trays were clean, and he, too, was watch- 
ing the sky, and saying : — 

‘‘ Oh! how I wish the wind would blow. 

So that the Miller's mill might go. 

And grind me jlour so fine, to make 
My good light bread and good sweet cake ! 

4 


THE WIND’S WORK 


But how to bake I do not know 
Without the jiour as white as snow^ 

Jan heard every word that the Baker 
said, for he lived next door to him ; and he 
felt so sorry for his good neighbor that he 
wanted to tell him so. But before he had 
time to speak, somebody else called out 
from across the street : — 

Well! Tm sure I wish the wind would bloWy 
For this is washing day^ you know, 

Vve scrubbed and rubbed with all my mighty 
In tubs of foam from morning lights 
And now I want the wind to blow 
To dry my clothes as white as snowy 
This was the Washerwoman who was 
hanging out her clothes. Jan could see his 
own Sunday shirt, with ruffles, hanging 
limp on her line, and it was as white as a 
snowflake, sure enough ! 

Come over, little neighbor,” cried the 
Washerwoman, when she saw Jan. ‘"Come 
over, little neighbor, and help me work 
to-day!” So, as soon as Jan had eaten his 
breakfast, he ran over to carry her basket 
for her. The basket was heavy, but he did 
5 


MOTHER STORIES 


not care ; and as he worked he heard some 
one singing a song, with a voice almost as 
loud and as strong as the wind. 

* Oh / if the merry wind would bloWy 
Teo ho ! lads, ho! yeo ho ! yeo ho ! 

My gallant ship would gaily go, 

Teo ho! lads, ho! yeo ho ! 

In fresHning gales we'd loose our sails. 
And der the sea. 

Where blue waves dance, and sunbeams glance. 
We'd sail in glee. 

But winds must blow, before we go. 
Across the sea, 

Teo ho ! my lads, yeo ho !" 

Jan and the Washerwoman and all the 
neighbors looked out to see who was sing- 
ing so cheerily, and it was the Sea-captain 
whose white ship Jan had watched in the 
harbor. The ship was laden with linen and 
laces for fine ladies, but it could not go till 
the wind blew. The Captain was impatient 
to be off, and so he walked about town, 
singing his jolly song to keep himself 
happy. 

* Air Nancy Lee, 

6 


THE WIND’S WORK 


Jan thought it was a beautiful song, and 
when he went home he tried to sing it 
himself. He did not know all the words, 
but he put his hands in his pockets and 
swelled out his little chest and sang in as 
big a voice as he could: Yeo ho ! my lads, 
yeo ho! ” 

While he sang, something kissed him on 
the cheek ; and when he turned to see what 
it was his hat spun off into the yard as if 
it were enchanted ; and when he ran to pick 
his hat up he heard a whispering all through 
the town. He looked up, and he looked 
down, and on every side, but saw nobody! 
At last the golden weather-vane on the 
church tower called down : — 

^‘Foolish child, it is the wind from out 
of the east.” 

The trees had been the first to know of 
its coming,and they were bo wingand bend- 
ing to welcome it ; while the leaves danced 
off the branches and down the hill, in a 
whirl of delight. 

The windmill’s arms whirled round, oh ! 
sp fast, and the wheat was ground into 

7 


MOTHER STORIES 


white flour for the Baker, who kindled his 
fires and beat his eggs in the twinkling of 
an eye ; and he was not quicker than the 
Sea-captain, who loosed his sails in the 
freshening gales, just as he had said he 
would, and sailed away to foreign lands. 

Jan watched him go, and then ran in 
great haste to get his kite ; for the petticoats 
on the Washerwoman’s clothesline were 
puffed up like balloons, and all the world 
was astir. 

Now I’m in my proper place,” said the 
kite as it sailed over the roofs of the houses, 
over the tree tops, over the golden weather 
vane, and even over the windmill itself. 
Higher, higher, higher it flew, as if it had 
wings ; till it slipped away from the string, 
and Jan never saw it again, and only the 
wind knew where it landed at last. 


8 


MRS. TABBY GRAY 


MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER 

All mother love attracts the child^ 

Its world-wide tenderness be feels ; 

And evry beast that loves her young 
His mother s love to him reveals^ 


lo 


MRS. TABBY GRAY 


Mrs. Tabby Gray, with her three little 
kittens, lived out in the barn where the hay 
was stored. One of the kittens was white, 
one was black, and one gray, just like her 
mother, who was called Tabby Gray from 
the color of her coat. 

These three little kittens opened their 
eyes when they grew old enough, and 
thought there was nothing so nice in all 
this wonderful world as their own dear 
mother, although she told them of a great 
many nice things, like milk and bread, 
which they should have when they could 
go up to the big house where she had her 
breakfast, dinner, and supper. 

Every time Mother Tabby came from 
the big house she had something pleasant to 
tell. ‘‘Bones for dinner to-day, my dears,” 
she would say, or “ I had a fine romp with a 
ball and the baby,” until the kittens longed 
for the time when they could go too. 

One day, however. Mother Cat walked 
in with joyful news. 


MOTHER STORIES 


“ I have found an elegant new home for 
you/’ she said, in a very large trunk where 
some old clothes are kept ; and I think I 
had better move at once.” 

Then she picked up the small black kit- 
ten, without any more words, and walked 
right out of the barn with him. 

The black kitten was astonished, but he 
blinked his eyes at the bright sunshine, and 
tried to see everything. 

Out in the barnyard there was a great 
noise, for the white hen had laid an egg, 
and wanted everybody to know it; but 
Mother Cat hurried on, without stopping 
to inquire about it, and soon dropped the 
kitten into the large trunk. The clothes 
made such a soft, comfortable bed, and the 
kitten was so tired after his exciting trip, 
that he fell asleep, and Mrs. Tabby trotted 
off for another baby. 

While she was away, the lady who 
owned the trunk came out in the hall ; and 
when she saw that the trunk was open, 
she shut it, locked it, and put the key in 
her pocket, for she did not dream that 


MRS. TABBY GRAY 


there was anything so precious as a kitten 
inside. 

As soon as the lady had gone upstairs 
Mrs. Tabby Gray came back, with the little 
white kitten; and when she found the 
trunk closed, she was terribly frightened. 
She put the white kitten down and sprang 
on top of the trunk and scratched with all 
her might, but scratching did no good. 
Then she jumped down and reached up to 
the keyhole, but that was too small for even 
a mouse to pass through, and the poor 
mother mewed pitifully. 

What was she to do ? She picked up the 
white kitten, and ran to the barn with it. 
Then she made haste to the house again, 
and went upstairs to the lady’s room. The 
lady was playing with her baby and when 
Mother Cat saw this she rubbed against 
her skirts, and cried : ‘‘ Mee-ow, mee-ow ! 
Y ou have your baby,and I want mine! Mee- 
ow, mee-ow 1 ” 

By and by the lady said : Poor Kitty 1 
she must be hungry” ; and she went down 
to the kitchen and poured sweet milk in a 

13 


MOTHER STORIES 


saucer, but the cat did not want milk. She 
wanted her baby kitten out of the big black 
trunk, and she mewed as plainly as she 
could: ‘‘Give me my baby — give me my 
baby, out of your big black trunk! ’’ 

The kind lady decided that she must 
be thirsty : “ Poor Kitty, I will give you 
water”; but when she set the bowl of water 
down Mrs. Tabby Gray mewed more sor- 
rowfully than before. She wanted no water, 
— she only wanted her dear baby kitten; 
and she ran to and fro, crying, until, at last, 
the lady followed her ; and she led the way 
to the trunk. 

“ What can be the matter with this cat ?” 
said the lady ; and she took the trunk key 
out of her pocket, put it in the lock, un- 
locked the trunk, raised the top — and in 
jumped Mother Cat with such a bound 
that the little black kitten waked up with 
a start. 

“ Purr, purr, my darling child,” said 
Mrs. Tabby Gray, in great excitement ; “ I 
have had a dreadful fright ! ” and before 
the black kitten could ask one question 
H 



The lady followed her ; and she led the way 
to the trunk. 




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MRS. TABBY GRAY 


she picked him up and started for the 
barn. 

The sun was bright in the barnyard and 
the hens were still chattering there ; but the 
black kitten was glad to get back to the 
barn. His mother was glad, too; for, as she 
nestled down in the hay with her three little 
kittens, she told them that a barn was the 
best place after all to raise children. 

And she never afterwards changed her 
mind. 


15 


FLEET WING AND 
SWEET VOICE 


■7 


MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER 

Make the home-coming sweet ! 

^ he gladness of goings 
ne pleasure of knowing 
Will not be complete 
Unless^ at the endings 
^he home-coming *s sweet. 

Make the home-coming sweet ! 

No fear of the straying^ 

Or dread of the staying 
Of dear little feet^ 

If always you \e making 
The home-coming sweet. 


FLEET WING AND 
SWEET VOICE 


Mother and Father Pigeon lived with 
their two young pigeons in their home, 
built high on a post in the king’s barn-yard. 
Every bright morning they would fly away 
through the beautiful sunshine wherever 
they pleased, but, when evening came, they 
were sure to come to the pigeon-house 
again. 

One evening, when they were talking to- 
gether in their sweet, cooing way. Mother 
Pigeon said : — 

‘‘We each have a story to tell, I know ; 
so let each one take his turn, and Father 
Pigeon begin.” 

Then Father Pigeon said: — 

“To-day I have been down to the shin- 
ing little stream that runs through the 
wood. The green ferns grow on either side 
of it, and the water is cool, cool, cool ! for 
I dipped my feet into it, and wished that 
you all were there.” 


19 


MOTHER STORIES 


know the stream,” cooed Mother 
Pigeon. ‘‘ It turns the wheels of the mills 
as it hurries along, and is busy all day on its 
way to the river.” 

‘‘To-day I have talked with the birds in 
the garden,” said Sweet Voice, one of the 
young pigeons, “the thrush, the blackbird, 
and bluebird, and all. They sang to me and 
I cooed to them, and together we made the 
world gay. The bluebird sang of the sun- 
shine, and the blackbird of the harvest ; but 
the thrush sang the sweetest song. It was 
about her nest in the tree.” 

“I heard you all,” said Fleet Wing, the 
other young pigeon ; “ for I sat and listened 
on the high church tower. I was so high 
up, there, that I thought I was higher than 
anything else ; but I saw the great sun shin- 
ing in the sky, and the little white clouds, 
like sky pigeons, sailing above me. Then, 
looking down, I saw, far away, this white 
pigeon-house ; and it made me very glad, 
for nothing that I saw was so lovely as 
home.” 

“ I never fly far away from home,” said 
20 


FLEET WING AND SWEET VOICE 


Mother Pigeon, “ and to-day I visited in 
the chicken yard.The hensw'ereall talking, 
and they greeted me with ‘Good morning ! 
Good morning ! ’ and the turkey gobbled 
‘Good morning ! ’ and the rooster said ‘How 
do you do?’ While I chatted with them a 
little girl came out with a basket of yellow 
corn, and threw some for us all. When I 
was eating my share, I longed for my dear 
ones. And now good night,” cooed Mother 
Pigeon, “ it is sleepy time for us all.” 

“ Coo, coo ! Good night ! ” answered the 
others; and all was still in the pigeon- 
house. 

Now over in the palace, where the king, 
and queen, and their one little daughter 
lived, there was the sound of music and 
laughter; but the king’s little daughter was 
sad, for early the next morning her father, 
the king, was to start on a journey, and she 
loved him so dearly that she could not bear 
to have him leave her. 

The king’s little daughter could not go 
out in the sunshine like Sweet Voice and 
Fleet Wing, but lay all day within the pal- 
21 


MOTHER STORIES 


ace on her silken cushions ; for her fine little 
feet, in their satin slippers, were always too 
tired to carry her about, and her thin, little 
face was as white as a jasmine flower. 

The king loved her as dearly as she loved 
him; and when he saw that she was sad, he 
tried to think of something to make her 
glad after he hadgone away. At last he called 
a prince, and whispered something to him. 
The prince told it to a count, and the count 
to a gentleman-in-waiting. 

The gentleman-in-waiting told a foot- 
man, and the footman told somebody else, 
and at last, the boy who waited on the cook 
heard it. 

Early next morning he went to the 
pigeon-house, where Mother and Father 
Pigeon and their two young pigeons lived; 
and putting his hand through a door, he 
took Sweet Voice and Fleet Wing out, and 
dropped them into a basket. 

Poor Sweet Voice, and Fleet Wing! 
They were so frightened that they could 
not coo 1 They sat very close to each other 
in the covered basket, and wondered when 
22 


FLEET WING AND SWEET VOICE 


they would see their mother and father and 
home again. 

All the time, as they sat close together 
in the basket and wondered, they werebeing 
taken away from home ; for the king had 
started on his journey, and one of his gen- 
tlemen was carrying the basket, very care- 
fully, with him on his horse. 

At last the horses stood still and the bas- 
ket was taken to the king; and when he 
opened it, the two little pigeons looked up 
and saw that the sun was high in the sky, 
and that they were far from home. 

When they saw that they were far from 
home, they were more frightened than be- 
fore; but the king spoke so kindly and 
smoothed their feathers so gently, that they 
knew he would take care of them. 

Then the king took two tiny letters tied 
with lovely blue ribbon out of his pocket; 
and, while his gentlemen stood by to see, 
he fastened one under a wing of each little 
pigeon. 

“Fly away, little pigeons!^’ he cried; 
and he tossed them up toward the sky. “ Fly 

23 


MOTHER STORIES 


away, and carry my love to my little daugh- 
ter 

Fleet Wing, and Sweet V oice spread their 
wings joyfully, for they knew that they 
were free! free! and they wanted to go 
home. 

Everywhere they saw green woods, in- 
stead of the red roofs and shining windows 
of the town, and Sweet Voice was afraid; 
but Fleet Wing said : — 

‘‘ I saw these woods from the tall church 
steeple. Home is not so far away as we 
thought.’’ 

Then they lost no time in talking, but 
turned their heads homeward ; and as they 
flew the little gray squirrels that ran about 
in the woods called out to ask them to play, 
but the pigeons could not stay. 

The wood dove heard them, and called 
from her tree : Little cousins, come in ! ” 
But thepigeons thanked herandhurriedon. 

“Home is not so far away,” said Fleet 
Wing ; but he began to fear that he had 
missed the way, and Sweet Voice was so 
tired that she begged him to fly on alone. 

24 



The child took the tiny creature in her arms 
and held it close* 


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The little pigeons were taken in to see the 
king’s daughter. 


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FLEET WING AND SWEET VOICE 


Fleet Wing would not listen to this ; and, 
as they talked, they came to a little stream 
of water with green ferns growing all about, 
and they knew that it must be the very 
stream that Father Pigeon loved. Then 
they cooled their tired feet in the fresh 
water, and cooed for j oy ; for they knew that 
they were getting nearer, nearer, nearer 
home, all the time. 

Sweet Voice was not afraid then ; and as 
they flew from the shelter of the woods, 
they saw the tall church steeple with its 
golden weather vane. 

The sun was in the west, and the windows 
were all shining in its light, when Fleet 
Wing and Sweet Voice reached the town. 
The little children saw them and called : 

Stay with us, pretty pigeons.’’ But Sweet 
Voice and Fleet Wing did not rest until 
they reached the white pigeon house, where 
Mother and Father Pigeon were waiting. 

The cook’s boy was waiting, too, and 
the little pigeons were taken in to see the 
king’s little daughter. When she found the 
letterswhichtheycarriedundertheirwings, 

25 


MOTHER STORIES 


she laughed with delight; and Fleet Wing 
and Sweet Voice were very proud to think 
that they had brought glad news to their 
princess. 

They told it over and over again out in 
the pigeon-house, and Mother and Father 
Pigeon were glad, too. 

In the morning, the birds in the garden 
were told of the wonderful things that had 
happened to Fleet Wing and Sweet Voice; 
and even the hens and chickens had some- 
thing to say when they heard the news. 

The thrush said that it all made her think 
of her own sweet song; and she sang it 
again to them : — 

Wherever I jly from my own dear nest, 

I always come hack, for home is the best” 


26 


THE LITTLE GIRL 
WITH THE LIGHT 


27 


MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER 

We can never dwell in shadows 
If our souls are full of light. 

Let the brightness of our being 
Make the whole wide world as bright. 


28 


THE LITTLE GIRL 
WITH THE LIGHT 


^^yesus bids us shine for all around. 

Many kinds of darkness in this world are 
found. 

There" s sin and want and sorrow^ so we must 
shine^ 

You in your small corner^ I in mine,” 

S, S. Hymn, 

There once lived a little maiden to whom 
God had given a wonderful light, which 
made her whole life bright. 

When she was a wee baby it shone on 
her face in a beautiful smile, and her mother 
cried : — 

“ See ! the angels have been kissing her \” 
And when she grew older it lighted up her 
eyes like sunshine, and gleamed on her 
forehead like a star. 

All lovely things that loved light, loved 
her. The soft-cooing pigeons came at her 
call. The roses climbed up to her windows 
to peep at her, and the birds of the air, and 
29 


MOTHER STORIES 


the butterflies, that looked like enchanted 
sunbeams, would circle about her head. 

Her father was king of a country; and 
though she was not so tall as the tall white 
lily in the garden, or the weeds that grew 
outside, she had servants to wait on her, 
and grant her every wish, as if she were a 
queen. 

She was dearer to her father and mother 
than all else that they possessed ; and there 
was no happier king or queen or little 
maiden in any kingdom of the world, till 
one sad day when the king’s enemies came 
upon them like a whirlwind, and changed 
their joy to sorrow. 

Their palace was seized, the servants 
were scattered, and the king and queen 
were carried away to a dark prison-house, 
where they sat and wept for their little 
daughter, for they knew not where she was. 

No one knew but the old nurse, who had 
nursed the king himself. She had carried 
the child away, unnoticed amid the noise 
and strife, and set her in safety outside the 
palace walls. 


30 


LITTLE GIRL WITH THE LIGHT 


“Fly, precious one!” she cried, as she 
left her there. “ Fly 1 for the enemy is upon 
us! ” And the little maiden started out in 
the world alone. 

She knew not where to go ; so she wan- 
dered away through the fields and waste 
places, where nobody lived and only the 
grasshoppers seemed glad. But she was not 
afraid, — no ! not even when she came to a 
great forest, at evening; — for she carried 
her light with her. 

’T is true that once she thought she saw 
a threatening giant waiting by the dusky 
path ; but, when her light shone on it, it 
was only a pine tree, stretching out its 
friendly arms ; and she laughed so merrily 
that all the woods laughed too. 

“Who are you.? Who are you?” asked 
an owl, blinking his eyes at the brightness 
of her face ; and a little rabbit, startled by 
the sound, sprang from its hiding place in 
the bushes and fell trembling at her feet. 

“Alas ! ” it panted as she bent in pity to 
offer help, “Alas ! the hunters with their 
dogs and guns pursue me! But you flee, 

31 


MOTHER STORIES 


too! How can you help me?'' But the child 
took the tiny creature in her arms and held 
it close; and when the dogs rushed through 
the tanglewood, they saw the light that 
lighted up her eyes like sunshine and 
gleamed on her forehead like a star, and 
came no further. 

Then deeper into the great forest she 
went, bearing the rabbit still ; and the wild 
beasts heard her footsteps, and waited for 
her coming. 

Hush I " said the fox, ‘‘ she is mine ; 
for I will lead her from the path into the 
tanglewood 1 " 

‘‘ Nay, she is mine 1 " howled the wolf; 
for I will follow on her footsteps 1 " 
“Mine! mine!" screamed the tiger; 
“ for I will spring upon her in the dark- 
ness, and she cannot escape me ! " 

So they quarreled among themselves, for 
they were beasts and knew no better ; and 
as they snarled and growled and howled, 
the maiden walked in among them ; and 
when the light which made her lovely fell 
upon them, they ran and hid themselves 

32 


LITTLE GIRL WITH THE LIGHT 


in the depths of the forest, and the child 
passed on in safety. 

The rabbit still slept peacefully on her 
breast. At last she, too, grew weary, and 
lay down to sleep on the leaves and moss ; 
and the birds of the forest watched her and 
sang to her, and nothing harmed her all 
the night. 

In the morning a party of horsemen 
rode through the forest, looking behind 
each bush and tree as if they sought some- 
thing very precious. 

The forest glowed with splendor then, 
for the sun had come in all its glory to 
scatter darkness and wake up the world. 
The darkest dells and caves and lonely 
paths lost their horror in the morning 
light, and there were violets blooming in 
the shadows of the pines. 

The leaves glistened, the flowers lifted 
their heads, and everything was glad but 
the horsemen, whose faces were full of 
gloom because their hearts were sad. 

They did not speak or smile as they rode 
on their search ; and their leader was the 

33 


MOTHER STORIES 


saddest of them all, though he wore a 
golden crown that sparkled with many 
jewels. 

They followed each winding path 
through the forest, till at last they reached 
the spot where the little maiden lay. 

The rabbit waked up at the sound of 
their coming, but the child slept till a loud 
cry of gladness awakened her and she 
found herself in her father’s arms. 

In the night-time the king’s brave sol- 
diers had driven his enemies from his land, 
and opened the doors of the prison-house 
in which he and the queen lay, and the 
king had ridden with them in haste to find 
his darling child, who was worth his crown 
and his kingdom. 

The sight of her face was the sunshine 
to lighten their hearts, and they sent the 
glad news far and near, with blast of trum- 
pet and shouts of joy. 

But in all their great happiness the child 
did not forget the rabbit, and she said to it. 
Come with me and I will take care of 
you, for my father the king is here.” But 
34 


LITTLE GIRL WITH THE LIGHT 


the rabbit thanked her and wanted to go 
home. 

‘‘ My babies are waiting,” it said, and 
I have my work to do in the world. I pray 
you let me go.” 

So the child kissed it and bade it go ; 
and she, too, went to her own dear home. 
There she grew lovelier every day, for the 
light grew with her ; and when, long years 
afterward, she was queen of the country, 
the foxes and wolves and tigers dared not 
harm her people, for her good knights 
drove evil from her land ; but to loving 
gentle creatures she gave love and protec- 
tion, and she lived happily all the days of 
her life. 


35 














THE LITTLE GRAT 

PONT 


37 


MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER 

^he humblest workman has hisplacCy 
Which no one else can Jill. 


38 


THE LITTLE 
GRAY PONY 


There was once a man who owned a 
little gray pony. 

Every morning when the dewdrops 
were still hanging on the pink clover in the 
meadows, and the birds were singing their 
morning song, theman would jump on his 
pony andrideaway, clippety,clippety, clap! 

The pony’s four small hoofs played the 
j oiliest tune on the smooth pike road, the 
pony’s head was always high in the air, and 
the pony’s two little ears were always 
pricked up; for he was a merry gray pony, 
and loved to go clippety, clippety, clap 1 

The man rode to town and to country, 
to church and to market, up hill and down 
hill ; and one day he heard something fall 
with a clang on a stone in the road. Look- 
ing back, he saw a horseshoe lying there. 
And when he saw it, he cried out : — 
What shall I do ? What shall I do ? 

If my little gray pony has lost a shoe? ” 

39 


MOTHER STORIES 


Then down he jumped, in a great hurry, 
and looked at one of the pony’s fore- 
feet; but nothing was wrong. He lifted the 
other forefoot, but the shoe was still there. 
He examined one of the hindfeet, and be- 
gan to think that he was mistaken ; but 
when he looked at the last foot, he cried 
again : — 

« What shall I do? What shall Ido? 

My little gray pony has lost a shoe /” 

Then he made haste to go to the black- 
smith ; and when he saw thesmith, he called 
out to him : — 

Blacksmith! Blacksmith! I*ve come to you; 
My little gray pony has lost a shoe ! ” 

But the blacksmith answered and 
said : — 

“ How can I shoe your pony' s feet^ 

Without some coal the iron to heat ? ” 

The man was downcast when he heard 
this; but he left his little gray pony in the 
blacksmith’s care, while he hurried here 
and there to buy the coal. 

First of all he went to the store ; and 
when he got there, he said : — 

40 


THE LITTLE GRAY PONY 


Storekeeper! Storekeeper! I've come to you; 
My little gray pony has lost a shoe ! 

And I want some coal the iron to heat^ 

That the blacksmith may shoe my pony's feet," 
But the storekeeper answered and 
said : — 

‘‘ Now y I have apples and candy to selly 
And more nice things than I can tell; 

But I've no coal the iron to heaty 
That the blacksmith may shoe yourpony's feet." 
Then the man went away sighing, and 
saying : — 

‘‘ What shall I do ? What shall I do ? 

My little gray pony has lost a shoe ! " 

By and by he met a farmer coming to 
town with a wagon full of good things ; 
and he said : — 

‘‘ Farmer! Farmer! I've come to you; 

My little gray pony has lost a shoe! 

And I want some coal the iron to heaty 
That the blacksmith may shoe my pony's feet." 
Then the farmer answered the man and 
said: — 

I've bushels of corn and hay and wheaty 
Something for you and your pony to eat; 

41 


MOTHER STORIES 


But I've no coal the iron to heat^ 

T hattheblacksmith may shoe your pony's feet," 
So the farmer drove away and left the 
man standing in the road, sighing and say- 
ing:— 

“ What shall I do ? What shall I do ? 

My little gray pony has lost a shoe I " 
Inthefarmer*swagon,full ofgood things, 
he saw corn, which made him think of the 
mill ; so he hastened there, and called to the 
dusty miller : — 

Miller ! Miller! I 've come to you; 

My little gray pony has lost a shoe, 

And I want some coal the iron to heat. 

That the hlacl^smith may shoe my pony' s feet," 
The miller came to the door in surprise; 
and when he heard what was needed, he 
said : — 

have wheels that go round and round. 

And stones to turn till the grain is ground ; 
But I 've no coal the iron to heat, 

T hat the blacksmith may shoey our pony' s feet, ' ' 
Then the man turned away sorrowfully 
and sat down on a rock near the roadside, 
sighing and saying : — 

42 


THE LITTLE GRAY PONY 


^^What shall I do ? What shall I do ? 

My little gray pony has lost a shoe I ” 

After a while a very old woman came 
down the road, driving a flock of geese 
to market; and when she came near the 
man, she stopped to ask him his trouble. 
He told her all about it ; and when she had 
heard it all, she laughed till her geese j oined 
in with a cackle; and she said: — 

If you would know where the coal is founds 
Tou must go to the miner ^ who works in the 
ground^ 

Then the man sprang to his feet, and, 
thanking the old woman, he ran to the 
miner. Now the miner had been working 
many a long day down in the mine, under 
the ground, where it was so dark that he 
had to wear a lamp on the front of his cap 
to light him at his work ! He had plenty of 
black coal ready and gave great lumps of it 
to the man, who took them in haste to the 
' blacksmith. 

The blacksmith lighted his great red fire, 
and hammeredout four finenew shoes,with 
a cling ! and a clang ! and fastened them on 
43 


MOTHER STORIES 


with a rap ! and a tap ! Then away rode the 
man on his little gray pony, — clippety, 
clippety, clap ! 


44 


HOW THE HOME 
WAS BUILT 



A 


MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER 

"The priceless blessing of a happy home can be 
won only by struggle^ endurance^ and self-sacri- 
fice, Froebel. 

Blow* s Commentaries, 


\ 



So the Honse was built ; a cozy room for the 
cooking and eating. 




HOW THE HOME 
WAS BUILT 


Once there was a very dear family, — 
Father, Mother, big Brother Tom, little 
Sister Polly, and the baby, who had a very 
long name, Gustavus Adolphus; and every 
one of the family wanted a home more 
than anything else in the world. 

They lived in a house, of course, but 
that was rented ; and they wanted a home 
of their very own, with a sunny room for 
Mother and Father and Baby, with a wee 
room close by for the little sister ; a big, 
airy room for Brother Tom; a cosy room 
for the cooking and eating; and, best of 
all, a room that Grandmother might call 
her own when she came to see them. 

A box which Tom had made always 
stood on Mother’s mantel, and they called 
it the Home Bank,” because every penny 
that could be spared was dropped in there 
for the building of the home. 

This box had been full once, and was 

47 


MOTHER STORIES 


emptied to buy a little piece of ground 
where the home could be built when the 
box was full again. 

The box filled very slowly, though ; and 
Gustavus Adolphus was nearly three years 
old when one day the father came in with 
a beaming face and called the family to 
him. 

Mother left her baking, and Tom came 
in from his work ; and after Polly had 
brought the baby, the father asked them 
very solemnly: “Now, what do we all 
want more than anything else in the 
world ? ” 

“A home ! ’’ said Mother and Brother 
Tom. 

“A home!"’ said little Sister Polly. 

“Home 1 ” said the baby, Gustavus Adol- 
phus, because his mother had said it. 

“Well,” said the father, “ I think we 
shall have our home if each one of us will 
help. I must go away to the great forest, 
where the trees grow so tall and fine. All 
Winter long I must chop the trees down, 
and in the Spring I shall be paid in lum- 
48 


HOW THE HOME WAS BUILT 


ber, which will help in the building of the 
home. While I am away. Mother will have 
to fill my place and her own too, for she 
will have to go to market, buy the coal, 
keep the pantry full, and pay the bills, as 
well as cook and wash and sew, take care 
of the children, and keep a brave heart till 
I come back again.'* 

The mother was willing to do all this 
and more, too, for the dear home; and 
Brother Tom asked eagerly: What can 
I do ? — what can I do ? " for he wanted to 
begin work right then, without waiting -a 
moment. 

‘‘ I have found you a place in the car- 
penter’s shop where I work,” answered 
the father. ‘‘And you will work for him, 
and all the while be learning to saw and 
hammer and plane, so that you will be 
ready in the Spring to help build the 
home.” 

Now, this pleased Tom so much that 
he threw his cap in the air and hurrahed, 
which made the baby laugh; but little 
Polly did not laugh, because she was afraid 
49 


MOTHER STORIES 


that she was too small to help. But after a 
while the father said : “ I shall be away in 
the great forest cutting down the trees; 
Mother will be washing and sewing and 
baking; Tom will be at work in the car- 
penter’s shop ; and who will take care of 
the baby?” 

‘‘ I will, I will ! ” cried Polly, running 
to kiss the baby. ‘^And the baby can be 
good and sweet ! ” 

So it was all arranged that they would 
have their dear little home, which would 
belong to every one, because each one 
would help; and the father made haste 
to prepare for the Winter. He stored away 
the firewood and put up the stoves; and 
when the wood-choppers went to the 
great forest, he was ready to go with them. 

Out in the forest the trees were wait- 
ing. Nobody knew how many years they 
had waited there, growing every year 
stronger and more beautiful for the work 
they had to do. Every one of them had 
grown from a baby tree to a giant; and 
when the choppers came, there stood the 

50 


HOW THE HOME WAS BUILT 


giant trees, so bare and still in the wintry 
weather that the sound of the axes rang 
from one end of the woods to the other. 
From sunrise to sunset the men worked 
steadily ; and although it was lonely in the 
woods when the snow lay white on the 
ground and the cold wind blew, the father 
kept his heart cheery. At night, when the 
men sat about the fire in their great log- 
house, he would tell them about the 
mother and children who were working 
with him for a home. 

Nobody’s ax was sharper than his or 
felled so many trees, and nobody was glad- 
der when Spring-time came and the logs 
were hauled down to the river. 

The river had been waiting too, through 
all the Winter, under its shield of ice, but 
now that Spring had come, and the snows 
were melting, and all the little mountain 
streams were tumbling down to help, the 
river grew very broad and strong, and 
dashed along, snatching the logs when the 
men pushed them in and carrying them on 
with a rush and a roar. 

51 


MOTHER STORIES 


The men followed close along the bank 
of the river, to watch the logs and keep 
them moving ; but at last there came a time 
when the logs would not move, but lay in 
a jam from shore to shore while the water 
foamed about them. 

‘‘Who will go out to break the jam?*’ 
said the men. They knew that only a brave 
man and a nimble man could go, for there 
was danger that the logs might crush him 
and the river sweep him away. 

They looked at each other. But the fa- 
ther was not afraid, and he was surefooted 
and nimble; so he sprang out in a mo- 
ment, with his ax, and began to cut away 
at the logs. 

“ Some of these logs may help to build a 
home,” he said ; and he found the very log 
thatwasholdingtheotherstight,andassoon 
as that was loosened, thelogs began to move. 

“Jump ! Jump ! ” cried the men, as they 
ran for their lives; and, just as the logs 
dashed on, with a rumble and a jumble and 
a jar that sent some of the logs flying up in 
the air, the father reached the bank safely. 

52 


HOW THE HOME WAS BUILT 


The hard work was over now. After the 
logs had rested in the log boom/* they 
went on their way to the saw mills, where 
they were sawed into lumber to build 
houses ; aiid then the father hurried home. 

When he came there, he found that the 
mother had baked and washed and sewed 
and taken care of the children, as only 
such a precious mother could have done. 
Brother Tom had worked so well in the 
carpenter’s shop, that he knew how to 
hammer and plane and saw, and had grown 
as tall and as stout as a young pine tree. Sister 
Polly had taken such care of the baby, that 
he looked as sweet and clean and happy as 
a rose in a garden ; and the baby had been 
so good, that he was a joy to the whole 
family. 

“ I must get this dear family into their 
home,” said the father ; and he and Brother 
Tom went to work with a will. And the 
home was built, with a sunny room for 
Father and Mother and Baby, a wee little 
room close by for good Sister Polly, a big 
airy room for big Brother Tom, a cosy 

53 


MOTHER STORIES 


room for the cooking and eating, and best 
of all, a room for the dear grandmother, 
who came then to live with them all the 
time. 


54 


THE 

LITTLE TRAVELER 


55 


MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER 

Love is a bridge that links us heart to heart ; 
Mother and child can never live apart. 


THE LITTLE 
TRAVEL ER 


Once upon a time there was a little boy 
who had a long journey to go. He had a 
very dear mother, and she did not want 
her little son to leave her; but she knew he 
must go, so she put her arms around him 
and said: ‘^Now, don’t be afraid, for I 
shall be thinking of you, and God will 
take care of you.” 

Then the little boy kissed her goodbye 
and ran away, singing a merry song. As 
long as he could see her he would turn 
and wave his hand to her ; but by and by 
she was out of sight. Just then he came to 
a stream of water that ran across his path. 

‘‘How can I get over.?” thought the 
little boy; but a white swan swam up to 
greet him, and said: — 

“ There is always a way to get over the 
stream. Follow me ! follow me ! ” 

So the little boy followed the swan till 
he came to a row of great stepping stones, 
S7 


MOTHER STORIES 


and he jumped from one to another, count- 
ing them as he went. 

When he reached the seventh he was 
safe across, and he turned to thank the 
white swan. And when he had thanked 
her, he called : — 

“ White swan, white swan, swimming so gay ! 

Carry a message for me to-day : 

My love to my mother, wherever she be; 

I know she is always thinking of me^ 

Then the white swan swam back to 
carry the message, and the little boy ran on 
his way. 

Oh ! there were so many beautiful things ) 
to hear, — the birds singing and the bees | 
humming; and so many beautiful things 
to see, — the flowers and butterflies and 
green grass ! And after a while he came 
to a wood, where every tree wore a green 
dress; and through the wood, under the 
shade of the trees, flowed a babbling creek. 

“ I wonder how I can get over said the 
little boy ; and the wise wind whispered : 

“ There is always a way to get over the 
stream. Follow me ! follow me ! ’’ 

58 



There is always a way to get over the 
stream, Follow me ! Follow me ! ** 


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THE LITTLE TRAVELER 


Then he followed the sound of the wise 
wind’s voice, and the wind blew against a 
tall pine tree, and the pine tree fell across 
the creek, and lay there, a great round 
foot-log, where the little boy might step. 
He made his way over, and thanked the 
wise wind ; and he asked : — 

*^Wise windy wise wind, blowing so gay f 
Carry a message for me to-day: 

My love to my mother y wherever she be; 

I know she is always thinking of me^ 
The wind blew back to carry the mes- 
sage, and the little boy made haste on his 
journey. His way lead through a meadow, 
where the clover grew and the white sheep 
and baby lambs were feeding together in 
the sunshine. 

On one side of this meadow flowed a sil- 
ver shining river, and the child wandered 
up and down the bank to find some way to 
cross, for he knew that he must go on. 

As he walked there, a man called a car- 
penter found him, and said to him: — 
There is always a way to get over the 
stream. Follow me! follow me!” 

59 


MOTHER STORIES 


Then the little boy followed the car- 
penter, and the carpenter and his men built 
a bridge of iron and wood that reached 
across from bank to bank. And when the 
bridge was finished, the child ran over in 
safety ; and after he had thanked the car- 
penter, he said : — 

‘‘ Carpenter^ carpenter ^ on your way! 

Carry a message for me to-day: 

My love to my mother^ wherever she be; 

I know she is always thinking of me. 

The carpenter gladly consented; and 
after he had turned back to carry the mes- 
sage, the little boy followed the path, 
which led up hill over rocks and steep 
places, through brambles and briars, until 
his feet grew weary ; and when he came 
down into the valley again, he saw a river 
that was very dark and very deep. 

There was no white swan or wise wind 
to help him. No tree in the forest could 
bridge it over, and the carpenter and his 
men were far away. 

‘‘ I must get over. There is a way,’* said 
the little boy bravely ; and, as he sat down 
6o 


THE LITTLE TRAVELER 


to rest, he heard a murmuring sound. Look- 
ing down, he spied a tiny boat fastened to 
a willow tree. 

am the boat with a helping oar^ 

To carry you over from shore to shore f 
repeated the boat; and when the little boy 
had unfastened it, he sprang in, and began 
to row himself over the dark water. 

As he rowed, he saw a tiny bird flying 
above him. The bird needed no boat or 
bridge, for its wings were strong ; and when 
the little boy saw it, he cried : — 

Little bird^ little bird^jlying so gay ! 
Carry a message for me to-day: 

My love to my mother^ wherever she be ; 

I know she is always thinking of me^ 

The little bird flew swiftly back to carry 
the message, and the boy rowed on till he 
reached the opposite shore. After he had 
thanked the boat with its helping oar, he 
tied it to a tree as he had found it, and then 
hastened away, singing his happy song 
again. 

By and by he heard an answer to his 
song, and he knew that it was the great sea, 

6i 


MOTHER STORIES 


calling ‘‘ Come ! Come! Come!’’ And 
when he reached the shore where the blue 
waves were dancing up to the yellow sands, 
he clapped his hands with delight; for 
there, rocking on the billows, was a beau- 
tiful ship with sails as white as a lady’s 
hands. 

I knew there would be a way ! ” said 
the little boy, as he sprang on deck and 
went sailing over the deep blue sea, — sail- 
ing, sailing, sailing, day after day, night 
after night, over the beautiful sea. 

At night the stars would look down, 
twinkling and blinking ; and as the little 
boy watched them, he would say ; — 

Little stars y little stars ^ shining so bright! 
Carry a message for me to-night: 

My love to my mother^ wherever she be; 

I know she is always thinking of me^ 

The little boy went on sailing, sailing, 
day and night, until he came to a land be- 
yond the sea, — a land so full of delight 
that the little boy felt that his j ourney was 
ended, until one day when a great storm 
came. 


62 


THE LITTLE TRAVELER 


The wind blew, the thunder crashed, 
the lightning flashed, the rain came pour- 
ing down, and the little boy wanted to go 
home. 

‘‘I will find a way!” he cried at last; 
and, just as he spoke, the sun came bursting 
out, the storm clouds rolled away, and there 
in the sky was a rainbow bridge that seemed 
to touch both sky and earth. 

Then the little boy’s heart leaped for 
j oy , and he ran with feet as light as feathers 
up the shining bow ; and when he reached 
the highest arch, he looked down on the 
other side and saw home and his mother 
at the rainbow’s end. 

** Mother 1 Mother I ” he called, as he 
ran down into her arms. “ Mother, I ’ve 
always been thinking of you, and God has 
taken care of me.” 


63 






THE OPEN GATE 


I 


65 


MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER 

Early teach your child ^ through play^ to guard 
that which is dear to him from the danger of loss, 

Froebel. 


66 


THE OPEN GATE 


One bright summer afternoon. Fleet, 
the good old shepherd dog that helped to 
take care of the farmyard, decided that he 
would step into the barn to see his friend 
Mrs. Muffet and her two little kittens, for 
he had not been able to chat with them for 
some time. 

On his way. Fleet looked around to see 
that all was right. The weather was warm 
and the hens were taking a dust bath under 
the apple tree, and the brindle calf was 
asleep in the shadow of the barn. Theducks 
and geese were at the pond, the horses were 
at work in a distant field, the cows and sheep 
were in pasture, and only the brown colt 
kicked up his heels in the farmyard ; so 
Fleet barked with satisfaction, and walked 
into the barn. 

Inside he found Mrs. Muffet washing 
her face, while her two little kittens slept 
in the hay ; and she gave Fleet a warm wel- 
come. 

Good evening, Mrs. Muffet,’’ said he. 

67 


MOTHER STORIES 


‘‘ Good evening. Friend Fleet,” an- 
swered she. 

‘‘How are the children?” asked the 
good dog, “ and do they grow ?” 

“ Grow?” said Mrs.MufFet. “You never 
saw anything like them ! and such tricks as 
they play! Tittleback is the merrier, and 
will play with his own tail when he can find 
nothing else; but Toddlekins can climb in 
a way that is astonishing. Why, he even 
talks of going to the top of the barn, and 
no doubt he will, some day.” 

“ No doubt, no doubt,” said Fleet. 
“ Children are so remarkable now.” 

“ But what is the news with you. Friend 
Fleet?” inquired Mrs. Muffet. 

“ N othing at all,’ ’ said Fleet. “The barn- 
yard is as quiet” — but just as he spoke 
there arose such a clatter outside the door 
that he sprang to his feet to see what was 
the matter, and the two kittens waked up 
in alarm. Outside, the yard was in a com- 
motion. Everybody was talking at the same 
time. The hens were cackling, the roosters 
crowing, the ducks quacking, the calf cry- 
68 


THE OPEN GATE 


ing, and the sound of flying hoofs could be 
heard far down the road. 

“ Pray, what is the matter said Fleet 
to three geese, that were hurrying along, 
with their necks stretched out. 

‘‘ The gate is open, the brown colt ’s 
gone, the brindle calf’s going and we are 
thinking about it ; quawk! quawk! ” said 
the three geese, Mrs. Waddle, Mrs. Gab- 
ble, and Mrs. Dabble. 

‘‘Where are you going?” asked Mrs. 
Muffet, putting her head out of the barn 
door. 

“ Out into the world,” said the three 
geese together. 

“You ’d better go back to your pond,” 
barked Fleet, as he bounded off to help the 
cook, who was waving her apron to keep 
back the brindle calf, while the milkmaid 
shut the gate, and little Dick ran down the 
road after the brown colt. 

The brown colt kicked up his heels, and 
did not care how fast Dick ran. He had all 
the world to roam in, and the green grass 
was growing everywhere ; so he tossed his 
69 


MOTHER STORIES 


head and galloped away toward the blue 
hills. 

After a while he looked to see whether 
Dick was still following him, but nobody 
was in sight; so he lay down and rolled 
over among the daisies ; and this was such 
fun that he tried it again, and again, until 
he was tired. 

Then he nibbled the grass awhile, but 
soon decided to take another run ; and he 
raised such a dust, as he scampered along, 
that the birds peeped down from the trees 
to see what it was, and a little rabbit that 
ran across the road was so astonished that 
it did not take breath again till it reached 
its greenwood home. 

“ Hurrah ! ” said the brown colt, not be- 
cause he knew what it meant but because 
he had heard Dick say it. Hurrah ! maybe 
ril never go back ! ’’ 

Just then there came an awful screech 
out of a neighboring field, and, although it 
wasonlythewhistleofathreshingmachine, 
the brown colt was terribly frightened, and 
jumped over a fence into a cotton field. 

70 


THE OPEN GATE 


‘‘ Oh ! ” thought he, as he tore his glossy 
coat on the sharp barbs of the wire fence and 
cut his feet as he leaped awkwardly over, 
“ Oh ! how I wish I could see Dick now/’ 
But Dick was at home. He had run after 
the brown colt as fast as his feet could carry 
him, and had called ‘‘ Whoa ! Whoa ! ” but 
the brown colt would not listen ; so Dick 
had gone home with his head hanging 
down, for he was the very one who had forgot- 
ten to shut the farmyard gate. 

Mother was at home, and she felt very 
sorry when she heard about it, for she knew 
how dear that colt was to her careless little 
boy ; and when father came in from the 
fields, too late to look for the runaway, he 
said that big boys and little boys and every- 
body else must take care of the things they 
wanted to keep ; and Dick cried, but it did 
no good. 

The cows came home when father did, 
and the brindle calf was glad that she had 
not gone away from the farmyard when 
she saw her mother come in from the clover 
lot. The chickens went to roost, and the 

71 


MOTHER STORIES 


horses were fed; but no brown colt came 
in sight, although Dick and Fleet went 
down the lane to look, a dozen times. 

He’s sorry enough,” said Friend Fleet 
to Mrs. Muffet, as they ate their supper ; 
and Mrs. Muffet toldTittleback and Tod- 
dlekins all about it, when she went back to 
the barn. 

Poor little Dick ! and poor brown colt ! 
They thought about each other very often 
that night ; and early in the morning the 
man who owned the cotton field, drove 
the brown colt out. 

I’d like to know,” said the man, as he 
hurried him along, ‘^what business you 
have in my cotton field!” But the brown 
colt hung his head, as Dick had done, and 
limped away. 

The long pike road stretched out, hard 
and white, before him, and the birds, chat- 
tering in the bushes, seemed to say: — 

‘‘ Is this the same brown colt that raised 
such a dust yesterday ?” 

Oh ! how long and weary the way was, 
to his limping feet ! But at last he reached 
72 


K 

I' 





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I ' .' r .sl'’ I. i 


4 


THE OPEN GATE 


home, just at milking time; and when the 
milkmaid saw him standing at the gate, 
she gave a scream that brought the house- 
hold out. 

Dick and the cook and Fleet tumbled 
over each other in their surprise, and the 
barnyard was in such an excitement that 
one hen lost her chickens and did not find 
them all for fifteen minutes. 

“What did you see?'’ cried the brindle 
calf. 

“What made you come back?" asked 
the geese; but Dick and Friend Fleet asked 
no questions, because they understood. 

That was a long time ago, and the brown 
colt is a strong horse now, and Dick a tall 
boy ; but neither of them will ever forget 
the day when Dick was careless and did 
not shut the farmyard gate. 


73 



INSIDE THE 
GARDEN GATE 


75 


MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER 

Wisdom comes with all we see, 

God writes His lessons in each flower ^ 

And ev ry singing bird or bee 

Can teach us something of His power. 


76 


INSIDE THE 
GARDEN GATE 


PART I. 

Grandmother’s garden was a beautiful 
place, — more beautiful than all the shop 
windows in the city; for there was a flower 
or grass for every color in the rainbow, 
with great white lilies, standing up so 
straight and tall, to remind you that a 
whole rainbow of light was needed to 
make them so pure and white. 

There were pinks and marigolds and 
princes’ feathers, with bachelor’s but- 
tons and Johnny-jump-ups to keep them 
company. There were gay poppies and 
gaudy tulips, and large important peonies 
and fine Duchess roses in pink satin 
dresses. 

There were soft velvet pansies and tall 
blue flags, and broad ribbon-grasses that 
the fairies might have used for sashes ; and 
mint and thyme and balm and rosemary 
77 


MOTHER STORIES 


everywhere, to make the garden sweet ; so 
it was no wonder that every year the gar- 
den was full of visitors. 

Nobody noticed these visitors but 
Grandmother and Lindsay. 

Lindsay was a very small boy, and 
Grandmother was a very old lady; but they 
loved the same things, and always watched 
for these little visitors, who came in the 
early spring-time and stayed all summer 
with Grandmother. 

Early, early in the spring, when the 
garden was bursting into bloom in the 
warm southern sunshine. Grandmother 
and Lindsay would sit in the arbor, where 
the vines crept over and over in a tangle 
of bloom, and listen to a serenade. Music, 
music everywhere ! Over their heads, be- 
hind their backs, the little brown bees 
would fly, singing their song: — 

Hum, hurriy hum ! 

Off and away! 

To get some 
Sweet honey to-day ! * ' 

while they found the golden honey cups, 

78 


INSIDE THE GARDEN GATE 


and filled their pockets with honey to store 
away in their waxen boxes at home. 

One day,while Grandmother and Lind- 
say were watching, a little brown bee flew 
away with his treasure, and lighting on a 
rose, met with a cousin, a lovely yellow 
butterfly. 

‘‘ I think they must be talking to each 
other,” said Grandmother, softly. ‘‘They 
are cousins, because they belong to the great 
insect family, just as your papa and Uncle 
Bob and Aunt Emma and Cousin Rachel 
all belong to one family, — the Greys; 
and I think they must be talking about 
the honey that they both love so well.” 

“ I wish I could talk to a butterfly,” 
said Lindsay, longingly ; and Grand- 
mother laughed. 

“Play that I am a butterfly,” she pro- 
posed. “What color shall I be? — a great 
yellow butterfly, with brown spots on my 
wings ?” 

So Grandmother played that she was a 
great yellow butterfly with brown spots 
on its wings, and she said to Lindsay : — 
79 


MOTHER STORIES 


‘‘ Never in the world can you tell, little 
boy, what I used to be?'" 

“A baby butterfly," guessed Lindsay. 

‘‘Guess again," said the butterfly. 

“A flower, perhaps; for you are so love- 
ly," declared Lindsay, gallantly. 

“ No, indeed ! " answered the butterfly ; 
“ I was a creeping, crawling caterpillar." 

“ Now, Grandmother, you 're joking ! " 
cried Lindsay, forgetting that Grand- 
mother was a butterfly. 

“Not I," said the butterfly. “I was a 
crawling, creeping caterpillar, and I fed 
on leaves in your Grandmother's garden 
until I got ready to spin my nest ; and then 
I wrapped myself up so well that you 
would never have known me for a cater- 
pillar ; and when I came out in the Spring 
I was a lovely butterfly." 

“ How beautiful ! " said Lindsay. 
“ Grandmother, let us count the butter- 
flies in your garden." But they never could 
do that, though they saw brown and blue 
and red and white and yellow ones, and 
followed them everywhere. 

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So the Grandmother played that she was a great 
yellow butterfly. 


INSIDE THE GARDEN GATE 


PART 11. 

It might have been the very next day 
that Grandmother took her knitting to the 
summer house. At all events it was very 
soon; and while she and Lindsay were 
wondering when the red rose bush would 
be in full bloom, Lindsay saw, close up to 
the roof, a queer little house, like a roll of 
crumpled paper, with a great many front 
doors; and, of course, he wanted to know 
who lived there. 

‘‘You must not knock at any of those 
front doors,'’ advised Grandmother, “be- 
cause Mrs. Wasp lives there, and might not 
understand ; although if you let her alone 
she will not hurt you. Just let me tell you 
something about her.” 

So Lindsay listened while Grandmother 
told the story ; — 

Once there was a little elf, who lived in 
the heart of a bright red rose, just like the 
roses we have been talking about. 

There were many other elves who lived 
in the garden. One, who lived in a lily 


MOTHER STORIES 


which made a lovely home ; and a poppy 
elf, who was always sleepy ; but the rose elf 
liked her own sweet smelling room, with 
its crimson curtains, best of all. 

Now the rose elf had a very dear friend, 
a little girl named Polly. She could not 
speak to her, for fairies can only talk to 
people like you and me in dreams and 
fancies, but she loved Polly very much, and 
would lie in her beautiful rose room, and 
listen to Polly’s singing, till her heart was 
glad. 

One day as she listened she said to her- 
self, ‘‘ If I cannot speak to Polly, I can write 
her a letter ; ” and this pleased her so much 
that she called over to the lily elf to ask 
what she should write it on. ‘‘I always 
write my letters on rose petals, and get the 
wind to take them,” said the rose elf. But 
I am afraid Polly would not understand 
that.” 

I will tell you,” answered the lily elf, 
“ what I would do. I would go right to Mrs. 
Wasp, and ask her to give me a piece of 
paper.” 


8a 


INSIDE THE GARDEN GATE 


But Mrs. Wasp is very cross, I Ve 
heard,’* said the rose elf timidly. 

“ Never believe the gossip that you hear. 
If Mrs. Wasp does seem to be a little stingy. 
I’m sure she has a good heart,” replied the 
lily elf. So the rose elf took courage, and 
flew to Mrs. Wasp’s house, where, by good 
fortune, she found Mrs. Wasp at home. 

Good morning Mrs. Wasp,” called the 
little elf, I ’ve come to see if you will 
kindly let me have a sheet of paper to-day.” 

‘‘Now,” said the wasp, “I have just 
papered my house with the last bit of paper 
I had, but if you can wait, I will make you 
a sheet.” 

Then the rose elf knew that Mrs. Wasp 
had a kind heart; and she waited and 
watched with a great deal of interest while 
Mrs. Wasp set to work. Now, close by her 
house was an old bit of dry wood, and Mrs. 
Wasp sawed it into fine bits, like thread, 
with her two sharp saws that she carries 
about her. Then she wet these bits well 
with some glue from her mouth, and rolled 
them into a round ball. 

83 


MOTHER STORIES 


“Oh, Mrs. Wasp!’’ cried the rose elf, 
“ I’m afraid I am putting you to too much 
trouble.” 

“ Don’t fret about me,” said the wasp ; 
“ I’m used to work.” So she spread out 
the ball, working with all her might, 
into a thin sheet of gray paper; and when 
it was dry, she gave it to the rose elf. 

“Thank you, good Mrs. Wasp,” said the 
elf; and she flew away to invite the lily elf 
and the poppy elf to help her with the let- 
ter, for she wanted it to be as sweet as all 
the flowers of spring. 

When it was finished they read it aloud. 

“ Dear Polly : 

Pm a little elf; 

I live within a flow' r; 

I love to hear your happy song^ 

It cheers my ev'ry hour. 

That I love you^ I'd like to say 
To you, before I close^ 

And please sing sweetly ev'ry day 
To 

Tour friend within a Rose," 

The letter was sent by a bluebird ; and 

84 


INSIDE THE GARDEN GATE 


the elf was sure that Polly understood, for 
that very day she came and stood among the 
flowers to sing the very sweetest song she 
knew. 

PART III. 

Out in Grandmother’s garden, just as 
the sun was up, a very cunning spinner spun 
a lovely wheel of fine beautiful threads; 
and when Grandmother and Lindsay came 
out, they spied it fastened up in a rose bush. 

The small, cunning spinner was climb- 
ing a silken rope near by with her eight 
nimble legs, and looking out at the world 
with her eight tiny eyes, when Grand- 
mother saw her and pointed her out to 
Lindsay ; and Lindsay said : — 

** Oh, Mrs. Spider ! come spin me some 
lace \ ” which made Grandmother think of 
a little story which she had told Lindsay’s 
papa and all of her little children, when 
they were lads and lassies, and this garden 
of hers had just begun to bloom. 

She sat down on the steps and told it to 
Lindsay. 


85 


MOTHER STORIES 


Once, long, long ago, when the silver 
moon was shining up in the sky, and the 
small golden stars were twinkling, twink- 
ling, a little fairy with a bundle of dreams 
went hurrying home to fairyland. 

She looked up at the stars and moon to 
see what time it was, for the fairy queen 
had bidden her come back before the day 
dawned. 

All out in the world it was sleepy time ; 
and the night wind was singing an old 
sweet lullaby, and the mocking bird was 
singing too, by himself, in the wood. 

“I shall not be late,” said the fairy, as 
she flew like thistle-down through the air 
or tripped over the heads of the flowers; 
but in her haste she flew into a spider’s web, 
which held her so fast that, although she 
struggled again and again, she could not 
get free. 

H er bundle of dr earns fell out of her arms, 
and lay on the ground under the rose-bush ; 
and the poor little fairy burst into tears, 
for she knew that daylight always spoiled 
dreams, and these were very lovely ones. 

86 


INSIDE THE GARDEN GATE 


Her shining wings were tangled in the 
web, her hands were chained, and her feet 
were helpless ; so she had to lie still and wait 
for the day time which, after all, came too 
soon. 

As soon as the sun was up, Mrs. Spider 
came out of her den; and when she saw the 
fairy she was very glad, for she thought she 
had caught a new kind of fly. 

‘Hf you please, Mrs. Spider,'’ cried the 
fairy quickly, ‘‘ I am only a little fairy, and 
flew into your web last night on my way 
home to fairyland." 

‘‘A fairy ! "said Mrs. Spider crossly, for 
she was disappointed ; I suppose you are 
the one who helps the flies to get away 
from me. You see well enough then ! " 

‘T help them because they are in trou- 
ble," answered the fairy gently. 

‘‘So are you, now," snapped the spider, 
“ But the flies won’t help you." 

“Butperhapsyouwill," pleaded thefairy. 

“Perhaps I won’t," said the spider, go- 
ing back into her house and leaving the 
little fairy, who felt very sorrowful. 

87 


MOTHER STORIES 


Her tears fell like dew drops on the 
spider web, and the sun shone on them, 
and made them as bright as the fairy queen’s 
diamonds. 

The fairy began to think of the queen 
and the court, and the bundle of dreams ; 
and she wondered who would do the work 
if she never got free. The fairy queen had 
always trusted her, and had sent her on 
many errands. 

Once she had been sent to free a mock- 
ing bird that had been shut in a cage. She 
remembered how he sang in his cage, al- 
though he was longing for his green tree 
tops. 

She smiled through her tears when she 
thought of this, and said to herself : — 

can be singing, too! It is better than 
crying.” 

Then she began to sing one of her fairy 
songs : — 

** Oh ! listen well, and I will telly 
Of the land where the fairies dwell; 

The lily hells ring clear and sweety 
And grass grows green beneath your feet 
88 


INSIDE THE GARDEN GATE 


In the land where the fairies dwells 
In the land where the fairies dwells 
Now though the fairy did not know it, 
Mrs. Spider was very fond of music; and 
when she heard the sweet song, she came 
out to listen. The little fairy did not see her, 
so she sang on : — 

^^Grasshoppers gay y by night and day y 
Keep ugly goblins far away 
From the land where the fairies dwell y 
From the land where the fairies dwells 
Mrs. Spider came a little farther out, 
while the fairy sang : — 

There's lovey sweet loveyforone and all — 
For love is best for great and small — 

In the land where the fairies dwell y 
In the land where the fairies dwell 
Just as the fairy finished the song she 
looked up, and there was Mrs. Spider, who 
had come out in a hurry. 

‘‘The flies are not going to help you,’’ 
said she, “so I will;” and she showed the 
fairy how to break the slender threads, until 
she was untangled and could fly away 
through the sunshine. 

89 


MOTHER STORIES 


‘‘What can I do for you, dear Mrs. 
Spider?’' the fairy asked, as she picked up 
her bundle of dreams. 

“Sing me a song sometimes,” replied 
Mrs. Spider. But the fairy did more than 
that; for soon after she reached fairyland, 
the fairy queen needed some fine lace to 
wear on her dress at a grand ball. 

“Fly into the world,” she said, “and 
find me a spinner; and tell her that when 
she has spun the lace, she may come to the 
ball and sit at the queen’s table.” 

As soonasthe fairy heard this, she thought 
of the spider, and made haste to find her 
and tell her the queen’s message. 

“Will there be music?” asked thespider. 

“ The sweetest ever heard,” answered 
the fairy ; and the spider began to spin. 

The lace was so lovely when it was fin- 
ished, that the fairy queen made the spider 
court spinner; and then the spider heard 
the fairies sing every day, and she too had 
love in her heart. 


INSIDE THE GARDEN GATE 


PART IV. 

A mocking bird sang in Grandmother’s 
garden. He was king of the garden, and the 
rose was queen. Every night when the gar- 
den was still, he serenaded Grandmother ; 
and she would lie awake and listen to him, 
for she said he told her all the glad tidings 
of the day, and helped her understand the 
flower folk and bird folk and insect folk 
that lived in her garden. 

Lindsay always thought the mocking 
bird told Grandmother the wonderful 
stories she knew, and he wanted to hear 
them, too, late in the night time ; but he 
never could keep awake. So he had to be 
contented with the mocking bird in the 
morning, when he was so saucy. 

There were orioles and thrushes and blue- 
birds, big chattering jays, sleek brown spar- 
rows, and red-capped woodpeckers ; but not 
a bird in the garden was so gay and sweet 
and loving as the mocking bird, who could 
sing everybody’s song and his own song, 
too. 


91 


MOTHER STORIES 


Night after night he sang his own song 
in Grandmother's garden. But there came 
a night when he did not sing ; and though 
Grandmother and Lindsay listened all next 
day, and looked in every tree for him, he 
could not be found. 

“ Fm afraid somebody has caught him 
and shut him up in a cage," said Grand- 
mother ; and when Lindsay heard this he 
was very miserable ; for he knew that some- 
where in the garden, there was a nest and 
a mother bird waiting. 

He and Grandmother talked until bed- 
time about it, and early next morning Lind- 
say asked Grandmother to let him go to 
look for the bird. 

“ Please do. Grandmother," he begged. 
‘‘ If somebody has him in a cage I shall be 
sure to find him; and I will take my own 
silver quarter to buy him back." 

So after breakfast Grandmother kissed 
him and let him go, and he ran down the 
path and out of the garden gate, and asked 
at every house on the street : — 

“ Is there a mocking bird in a cage here ? " 

92 


INSIDE THE GARDEN GATE 


This made people laugh, but Lindsay 
did not care. By and by, he came to a little 
house with green blinds ; and the little lady 
who came to the door did not laugh at all 
when she answered his question : — 

No ; there are no mocking birds here ; 
but there are two sweet yellow canaries. 
Won’t you come in to see them ? ” 

“ I will sometime, thank you, if Grand- 
mother will let me,” said Lindsay; “but 
not to-day; for if that mocking bird is in a 
cage, I know he’s in a hurry to get out.” 

Then he hurried on to the next house, 
and the next; but no mocking birds were to 
be found. After he had walked a long way, 
he began to be afraid that he should have to 
go home, when, right before him, in the 
window of a little house, he saw a wooden 
box with slats across the side ; and in the box 
was a very miserable mocking bird ! 

“Hurrah! hurrah 1 ” cried Lindsay, as 
he ran up the steps and knocked at the 
door. A great big boy came to the win- 
dow and put his head out to see what was 
wanted. 


93 


MOTHER STORIES 


“ Please, please,” said Lindsay, dancing 
up and down on the doorstep, ‘HVe come 
to buy the mocking-bird ; and Fve a whole 
silver quarter to give for it, because I think 
maybe he is the very one that sang in 
Grandmother's garden.” 

I don't want to sell it,” answered the 
boy, with a frown on his face. 

Lindsay had never thought of anything 
like this, and his face grew grave ; but he 
went bravely on : — 

Oh ! but you will sell it, maybe. Won't 
you, please ? Because I just know it wants 
to get out. You wouldn't like to be in a 
cage yourself, you know, if you had been 
living in a garden, — 'specially my Grand- 
mother's.” 

“This bird ain’t for sale,” repeated the 
boy, crossly, frowning still more over the 
bird-cage. 

“But God didn't make mocking-birds 
for cages,” cried Lindsay, choking a little. 
“ So it really isn’t yours.” 

“I’d like to know why it isn't,” said 
the boy. “You'd better get off my door- 
94 


INSIDE THE GARDEN GATE 


step and go home to your Granny, for Fm 
not going to sell my mocking-bird, — not 
one bit of it ; and he drew his head back 
from the window and left Lindsay out on 
the doorstep. 

Poor little Lindsay ! He was not certain 
that it was the bird, but he was sure that 
mocking-birds were not meant for cages ; 
and he put the quarter back in his pocket 
and took out his handkerchief to wipe 
away the tears that would fall. 

All the way home he thought of it and 
sobbed to himself, and he walked through 
the garden gate almost into Grandmother’s 
arms before he saw her, and burst into tears 
when she spoke to him. 

‘‘Poor little boy ! ” said Grandmother, 
when she had heard all about it; “and 
poor big boy, who didn’t know how to be 
kind! Perhaps the mocking-bird will help 
him, and, after all, it will be for the best.” 

Grandmother was almost crying her- 
self, when a click at the gate made them 
both start and then look at each other ; 
for there, coming up the walk, was a great 

95 


MOTHER STORIES 


big boy with a torn straw hat, and with a 
small wooden box in his hand, which made 
Lindsay scream with delight, for in that 
box was a very miserable-looking mock- 
ing-bird. 

“ Guess it is yours,” said the boy, hold- 
ing the box in front of him, ‘‘ for I trap- 
ped it out in the road back of here. I never 
thought of mocking-birds being so much 
account, and I hated to make him cry.” 

“There now,” cried Lindsay, jumping 
up to get the silver quarter out of his pocket. 
“ He isjust like Mrs. Wasp, isn’t he. Grand- 
mother ?” But the boy had gone down the 
walk and over the gate without waiting for 
anything, although Lindsay ran after him 
and called. 

Lindsay and Grandmother were so ex- 
cited that they did not know what to do. 
They looked out of the gate after the boy, 
then at each other, and then at the bird. 

Lindsay ran to get the hatchet, but he 
was so excited with joy that he could not 
use it, so Grandmother had to pry up the 
slats, one by one ; and every time one was 
96 


INSIDE THE GARDEN GATE 


lifted, Lindsay would jump up and down 
and clap his hands, and say, “ Oh, Grand- 
mother! ’’ 

At last, the very last slat was raised ; and 
then, in a moment, the mocking bird flew 
up, up, up into the maple tree, and Lindsay 
and Grandmother kissed each other for joy. 

Oh 1 everything was glad in the garden. 
The breezes played pranks, and blew the 
syringa petals to the ground, and up in the 
tallest trees the birds had a concert. Orioles, 
bluebirds, and thrushes, chattering jays, 
sleek brown sparrows, and red- capped 
woodpeckers, were all of them singing for 
Grandmother and Lindsay ; but the sweet- 
est singer was the mocking bird who was 
singing everybody’s sweet song, and then 
his own, which was the sweetest of all. 

know he is glad,” Lindsay said to 
Grandmother; ^‘for it is,oh, so beautiful to 
live inside your garden gate 1 ” 


97 


i 


I 

( 


( 

1 


1 




THE JOURNEY 


99 


LufC. 


MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER 

The whirling wheels^ that help us on our way^ 

A lesson to the children^ too, will say : 

^^Go on! there' s work awaiting you to-day ; 

The whole world moves apace, you must not stayJ* 


lOO 


THE JOURNEY 


A little boy, named Joseph, went with 
his papa,once upon a time, to visit hisGrand- 
ma. Grandma was an old, old lady, with hair 
as white as drifted snow ; and she petted 
Joseph’s papa almost as much as she did 
Joseph, for Papa had been her baby long, 
long before. 

It was a fine thing to go to see Grandma ; 
and Joseph would have been willing to stay 
a long time, if it had not been that Mamma 
and the baby and big brother were at home. 

He knew they needed him there, too, 
for Mamma wrote it in a letter. 

Dear Papa,” she said, in the letter that 
the stage coach brought, “When are you, 
and my precious Joseph coming home? 
The baby and Brother and I are well but we 
want to see you. We need a little boy here 
who can hunt hen’s nests and feed chickens, 
and rock the baby’s cradle. Please bring one 
home with you.” 

This made Joseph laugh for, of course. 
Mamma meant him; and though he forgot 
lOI 


MOTHER STORIES 


some of her letter, he always remembered 
that; and when Papa said; “Look here, 
Joseph, we must go home,” he was just as 
glad to go, as he had been to come to see 
Grandma. 

Now Joseph and his papa had to travel 
by stage coach, because there were no trains 
in those days ; and after they had told Grand- 
ma goodbye, on the morning they left, they 
went down to the inn to wait for the stage. 

The inn was the place where travelers 
who were away from home might stop and 
rest, and the landlady tried to be always 
pleasant and make everybody feel at home; 
so she hurried out on the porch, with two 
chairs for Joseph and his papa, as soon as 
she saw them. 

They were a little early for the stage, so 
Joseph sat and watched the wagons and 
carriages, that passed the inn. All the car- 
riages had ladies and children inside, and 
Joseph thought they must be going to see 
their grandmas. 

Most of the wagons that passed the inn 
were loaded down. Some of them were full 


102 


THE JOURNEY 


of hay; and Joseph knew in a minute, where 
they were going, for he had heard his 
Grandma say that she was going to store her 
hay away in a barn, that very day. 

Some of the wagons carried good things 
to sell ; and the men who drove them would 
ring their bells, and call out, now and then : 
“Apples to sell ! Apples to sell ! ’’ or “ Pota- 
toes and corn! Potatoes and corn! ’’which 
made Joseph laugh. 

Then there was the milkman. His tin 
cans were so bright that you could see your- 
self in them, and Joseph knew that they 
carried good sweet milk. 

This made him think of their own cows. 
He could shut his eyes and see how each 
one looked. Clover was red, Teenie black, 
and Buttercup had white spots on her back. 

Just then he heard the sound of a horn; 
and his father jumped up in a hurry and col- 
lected their bundles. “For,” said he, “that 
is the guard blowing his horn, and the stage 
coach is coming ! ” 

Joseph was so pleased when he heard 
this that he jumped up and down ; and while 
103 


MOTHER STORIES 


he was jumping, the stage coach whirled 
around the corner. 

There were four horses hitched to it, two 
white, and two black ; and they were trot- 
ting along at a fine pace. The driver was a 
jolly good fellow, who sat on the top of the 
coach and cracked his whip ; and the guard 
sat behind with the horn. 

The wheels were turning so fast that you 
could scarcely see them, but as soon as the 
inn was reached, the horses stopped and the 
stage coach stood still. The guard jumped 
down to open the door, and Joseph and his 
papa made haste to get in. The guard blew 
his horn, the driver cracked his whip, the 
horses dashed off, and away went Joseph 
and his papa. 

The stage coach had windows, and 
Joseph looked out. At first, all he could see 
was smooth, level ground ; but after a while, 
the horses walked slowly and you could 
have counted the spokes in the wheels, for 
they were going up hill and the driver was 
careful of his horses. 

The hill was so much higher than the 
104 



As soon as the inn was 


reached the horses stopped 



» 




THE JOURNEY 


rest of the country that when Joseph 
looked out at the houses in the valley he 
felt very great, although it was only the 
hill that was high, after all. 

Then they all came down on the other 
side, and the horses trotted faster. It was 
early in the morning, and the sunshine was 
so bright and the air so fresh that the 
horses tossed their heads, and their hoofs 
rang out as they hurried over the hard road. 

The road ran through the wood, and 
Joseph could see the maples with their 
wide-spreading branches, and the poplar 
with its arms held up to the sky, and the 
birches with their white dresses, all nod- 
ding in the wind, as though they said, 
“How do you do?” Once, too, he saw a 
little squirrel running about, and once a 
queer rabbit. 

Then the stage-coach stopped with a j erk . 

“What’s the matter?” called Joseph’s 
papa, as the driver and the guard got down. 

“The linch-pin has fallen out,” an- 
swered the driver, “and we have just 
missed losing a wheel.” 

105 


MOTHER STORIES 


‘‘Can we go on?’’ Joseph asked. And 
when his papa said “No,” he felt sorry. 
But the guard said that he would go after 
a wheelwright who lived not far beyond ; 
and Joseph and his papa walked about un- 
til the wheelwright came running, with 
his tools in his hand. 

He set to work, and Joseph thought it 
was very funny that the great wheel could 
not stay on without the linch-pin ; but the 
wheelwright said that the smallest screws 
counted. He put the wheel quickly in or- 
der, and off the stage-coach went. 

The wheels whirled around all the more 
merrily because of the wheelwright’s work; 
and when the hoofs of the horses clattered 
on the road, Joseph’s papa said that the 
horse-shoes were saying : — 

“ It is the little shoes, the little shoes, 
that help the horse to go!” 

Then Joseph looked down at his own 
small shoes and thought of his mother’s let- 
ter, and the little boy that she needed to hunt 
eggs and feed chickens and rock the baby’s 
cradle; and he was anxious to get home. 
io6 


THE JOURNEY 


Clip, clap ! clip, clap ! The horses step- 
ped on a bridge, and Joseph looked out to 
see the water. The bridge was strong and 
good, with great wooden piers set out in 
the water and a stout wooden railing to 
make it safe. 

The sun was high and shining very 
brightly on the water, and little Joseph 
began to nod. He rested his head on papa’s 
arm, and his eyelids dropped down over 
his two sleepy eyes, and he went so fast 
asleep that his papa was obliged to give 
him a little shake when he wanted to wake 
him up. 

‘‘Wake up, Joseph! wake up!” he 
cried, “and look out of the window!” 

Joseph rubbed his eyes and looked out 
of the window; and he saw a red cow, a 
black cow, and a cow with spots on her 
back ; and a little further on, a big boy and 
a baby; and, what do you think ? — yes, a 
mamma ! Then the stage-coach could not 
hold him or his papa another minute, be- 
cause they were at home ! 








The GIANT ENER GT 
The FAIRT SKILL 


109 


MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER 

Greatness is not always largeness. 

Help your child to understand^ 

Strength and skill are happy comrades; 

"T is the mind must guide the hand. 


I lO 


The GIANT ENERGY 

& 

The FAIRY SKILL 


Long, long ago, when there were giants 
to be seen, as they might be seen now if we 
only looked in the right place, there lived 
a young giant who was very strong and very 
willing, but who found it hard to get work 
to do. 

The name of the giant was Energy, and 
he was so great and clumsy that people were 
afraid to trust their work to him. 

If he were asked to put a bell in the church 
steeple, he would knock the steeple down, 
before he finished the work. If he were sent 
to reach a broken weather vane, he would 
tear off part of the roof in his zeal. So, at last, 
people would not employ him and he went 
away to the mountains to sleep; but he could 
not rest, even though other giants were 
sleeping as still as great rocks under the 
shade of the trees. 

Y oung Giant Energy could not sleep, for 
1 1 1 


MOTHER STORIES 


he was too anxious to help in the world’s 
work; and he went down into the valley, 
and begged so piteously for something to 
do that a good woman gave him a basket 
of china to carry home for her. 

‘‘ This is child’s play for me,” said the 
giant as he set the basket down at the wom- 
an’s house, but he set it down so hard that 
every bit of the china was broken. 

‘‘I wish a child had brought it for me,” 
answered the woman, and the young giant 
went away sorrowful. He climbed the 
mountain and lay down to rest; but he could 
not stay there and do nothing, so he went 
back to the valley to look for work. 

There he met the good woman. She had 
forgiven him for breaking her china, and 
had made up her mind to trust him again ; 
so she gave him a pitcher of milk to carry 
home. 

‘‘Be quick in bringing it,” she said, “lest 
it sour on the way.” 

The giant took the pitcher and made 
haste to run to the house; and he ran so fast 
that the milk was spilled and not a drop was 
I 12 


THE GIANT ENERGY, &c. 


left when he reached the good woman’s 
house. 

The good woman was sorry to see this, 
although she did not scold ; and the giant 
went back to his mountain with a heavy 
heart. 

Soon, however, he was back again, ask- 
ing at every house : — 

“Isn’t there something for me to do?” 
and again he met the good woman, who was 
here, there and everywhere, carrying soup 
to the sick and food to the hungry. 

Whenshemetthe young Giant Energy, 
her heart was full of love for him; and she 
told him to make haste to her house and fill 
her tubs with water, for the next day was 
wash day. 

Then the giant made haste with mighty 
strides towards the good woman’s house, 
where he found her great tubs; and, lifting 
them with ease, he carried them to the cis- 
tern and began to pump. 

He pumped with such force and with so 
much delight, that the tubs were soon filled 
so full that they ran over, and when the 


MOTHER STORIES 


good woman came home she found her yard 
as well as her tubs full of water. 

The young giant had such a down- 
cast look, that the good woman could not 
be angry at him; she only felt sorry for 
him. 

“Go to the Fairy Skill, and learn,” said 
the good woman, as she sat on the doorstep. 
“She will teach you, and you will be a help 
in the world after all.” 

“Oh! howcanigo?” cried the giant, giv- 
ing a jump that sent him up over the tree 
tops, where he could see the little birds in 
their nests. 

“Don’t go so fast,” said the good woman. 
“ Stand still and listen 1 Go through the 
meadow, and count a hundred daffodils; 
then turn to your right, and walk until you 
find a mullein stalk that is bent. Notice the 
way it bends, and walk in that direction till 
you see a willow tree. Behind this willow 
runs a little stream. Cross the water by the 
way of the shining pebbles, and when you 
hear a strange bird singing you can see the 
fairy palace and the workroom where the 
114 


THE GIANT ENERGY, &c. 


Fairy Skill teaches her school. Go to her 
with my love and she will receive you.” 

The young giant thanked the good wo- 
man, stepped over the meadow fence, and 
counted the daffodils, “One, two, three,” 
until he had counted a hundred. Then he 
turned to the right, and walked through the 
long grass to the bent mullein stalk, which 
pointed to the right ; and after he had found 
the brook and crossed by way of the shining 
pebbles, he heard a strange bird singing, 
and saw among the trees the fairy palace. 

He never could tell how it looked; but 
he thought it was made of sunshine, with 
the glimmer of green leaves reflected on it, 
and that it had the blue sky for a roof. 

That was the palace ; and at one side of 
it was the workshop, built of strong pines 
and oaks ; and the giant heard the hum of 
wheels, and the noise of the fairy looms, 
where the fairies wove carpets of rainbow 
threads. 

When the giant came to the door, the 
doorway stretched itself for him to pass 
through. He found Fairy Skill standing in 

115 


MOTHER STORIES 


the midst of the workers ; and when he had 
given her the good woman’s love, she re- 
ceived him kindly. Then she set him to 
work, bidding him sort a heap of tangled 
threads that lay in a corner like a great 
bunch of bright-colored flowers. 

This was hard work for the giant’s clum- 
sy fingers, but he was very patient about it. 
The threads would break, and he got some 
of them into knots; but when Fairy Skill 
saw his work, she said : — 

‘‘Very good for to-day;” and touching 
the threads with her wand, she changed 
them into a tangled heap again. The next 
day the giant tried again, and after that 
again, until every thread lay unbroken and 
untangled. 

Then Fairy Skill said “Well done,” and 
led him to a loom and showed him how to 
weave. 

This was harder work than the other had 
been; but Giant Energy was patient, al- 
though many times before his strip of car- 
pet was woven the fairy touched it with her 
wand, and he had to begin over. 

1 16 



Then she set him to work, bidding him sort a 
heap of tangled threads* 







THE GIANT ENERGY, &c. 


At last it was finished, and the giant 
thought it was the most beautiful carpet in 
the world. 

Fairy Skill took him next to the potter’s 
wheel, where cups and saucers were made 
outof clay; andthe giant learnedto be steady, 
to shape the cup as the wheel whirled round, 
and to take heed of his thumb, lest it slip. 

The cups and saucers that were broken 
before he could make beautiful ones would 
have been enough to set the queen’s tea 
table ! 

Fairy Skill then took him to the gold- 
smith, and there he was taught to make 
chains and bracelets and necklaces; and 
after he had learned all these things, the 
fairy told him that she had three trials for 
him. Three pieces of work he must do ; and 
if he did them well, he could go again into 
the world, for he would then be f'eady to 
be a helper there. 

‘‘The first task is to make a carpet,” said 
Fairy Skill, “ a carpet fit for a palace floor.” 

Giant Energy sprang to his loom, and 
made his silver shuttle glance under and 
117 


MOTHER STORIES 


over, under and over, weaving a most 
beautiful pattern. 

As he wove, he thought of the way by 
which he had come; and his carpet be- 
came as green as the meadow grass, and 
lovely daffodils grew on it. When it was 
finished, it was almost as beautiful as a mea- 
dow full of flowers ! 

Then the fairy said that he must turn a 
cup fine enough for a king to use. And the 
giant made a cup in the shape of a flower ; 
and when it was finished, he painted birds 
upon it with wings of gold. When she saw 
it, the fairy cried out with delight. 

“ One more trial before you go,” she 
said. “ Make me a chain that a queen 
might be glad to wear.” 

So Giant Energy worked by day and by 
night and made a chain of golden links; 
and in every link was a pearl as white as 
the shining pebbles in the brook. A queen 
might well have been proud to wear this 
chain. 

After he had finished. Fairy Skill kissed 
him and blessed him, and sent him away 

ii8 


THE GIANT ENERGY, &c. 


to be a helper in the world; but before he 
went she made him take the beautiful 
things which he had made, and give them 
to the one he loved best. 

The young giant crossed the brook, 
passed the willow, found the mullein stalk, 
and counted the daffodils. 

When he had counted a hundred, he 
stepped over the meadow fence and came 
to the good woman’s house. 

The good woman was at home, so he 
went in at the door and spread the carpet 
on the floor, and the floor looked like the 
floor of a palace. 

He set the cup on the table, and the 
table looked like the table of a king; 
and he hung the chain around the good 
woman’s neck, and she was more beauti- 
ful than a queen. 

And this is the way that young Giant 
Energy learned to be a helper in the world. 





THE SEARCH FOR 
A GOOD CHILD 


I2I 


MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER 

^ each your child that every one 

Loves him when he's good and truey 
But that though so dear to others y 
He is doubly dear to you. 

— Miss Blovfs Mottoes and Commentaries. 


THE SEARCH FOR 
A GOOD CHILD 


Long, long ago there lived, in a kingdom 
far away, five knights who were so good 
and so wise that each one was known by 
a name that meant something beautiful. 

The first knight was called Sir Brian the 
Brave. He had killed the great lion that 
came out of the forest to frighten the women 
and children, had slain a dragon, and had 
saved a princess from a burning castle ; for 
he was afraid of nothing under the sun. 

The second knight was Gerald the Glad, 
who was so happy himself that he made 
everybody around him happy too ; for his 
sweet smile and cheery words were so com- 
forting that none could be sad or cross or 
angry when he was near. 

Sir Kenneth the Kind was the third 
knight, and he won his name by his ten- 
der heart. Even the creatures of the wood 
knew and loved him, for he never hurt 
anything that God had made. 


MOTHER STORIES 


The fourth knight had a face as beauti- 
ful as his name, and he was called Percival 
the Pure. He thought beautiful thoughts, 
said beautiful words, and did beautiful 
deeds, for he kept his whole life as lovely 
as a garden full of flowers without a single 
weed. 

Tristram the True was the last knight, 
and he was leader of them all. 

The king of the country trusted these 
five knights ; and one morning in the early 
spring-time he called them to him and 
said: — 

“ My trusty knights, I am growing old, 
and I long to see in my kingdom many 
knights like you to take care of my people ; 
and so I will send you through all my king- 
dom to choose for me a little boy who may 
live at my court and learn from you those 
things which a knight must know. Only a 
good child can be chosen. A good child is 
worth more than a kingdom. And when 
you have found him, bring him, if he will 
come willingly, to me, and I shall be happy 
in my old age.” 


124 


SEARCH FOR A GOOD CHILD 


N ow the knights were well pleased with 
the words of the king, and at the first peep 
of day they were ready for their journey, 
and rode down the king’s highway with 
waving plumes and shining shields. 

No sooner had they started on their 
journey than the news spread abroad over 
the country, and many fathers and moth- 
ers who were anxious for the favor of the 
king sent messengers to invite the knights 
to visit them. 

The parents’ messages were so full of 
praises of their children that the knights 
scarcely knew where to go. Some of the 
parents said that their sons were beautiful ; 
some said theirs were smart; but as the 
knights cared nothing for a child who was 
not good, they did not hurry to see these 
children. 

On the second day, however, as they 
rode along, they met a company of men in 
very fine clothes, who bowed down before 
them ; and while the knights drew rein in 
astonishment, a little man stepped in front 
of the others to speak to them. 

125 


MOTHER STORIES 


He was a fat little man, with a fat little 
voice ; and he told the knights that he had 
come to invite them to the castle of the 
Baron Borribald, whose son Florimond 
was the most wonderful child in the 
world. 

‘‘Oh! there is nothing he cannot do,’* 
cried the fat little man whose name was 
Puff. “ Y ou must hear him talk I Y ou must 
see him walk!” 

So the knights followed him ; and when 
they had reached the castle, Florimond ran 
to meet them. He was a merry littlefellow, 
with long fair curls and rosy cheeks ; and 
when he saw the fine horses he clapped his 
hands with delight. The baron and baron- 
ess, too, were well pleased with their visi- 
tors, and made a feast in their honor; but 
early the next morning, the knights were 
startled by a most awful sound which 
seemed to come from the hall below. 

“Boo-hoo-hoo-hoo! ” It sounded some- 
thing like the howling of a dog ; but as they 
listened, it grew louder and louder, until it 
sounded like the roaring of a lion. 

126 


SEARCH FOR A GOOD CHILD 


The knights seized their swords and 
rushed down to see what was the matter ; 
and there, in the middle of the hall, stood 
Florimpnd, his cheeks puffed up and his 
eyes swollen, — and right out of his open 
mouth came that terrible noise : Boo-hoo- 
hoo-hoo! ’’ 

His mamma and papa were begging him 
tobequiet. The cook had run up with a pie, 
and the nurse with a toy, but Florimond 
only opened his mouth and screamed the 
louder, because the rain was coming down, 
when he wanted to play out of doors ! 

Then the knights saw that they were not 
wanted, and they hurried upstairs to prepare 
for their journey. The baron and baroness 
and fat little Puff all begged them to stay, 
and Florimond cried again when they left 
him ; but the knights did not care to stay 
with a child who was not good. 

The knights began to think that their 
mission was a difficult one ; but they rode 
on, asking at every house : ‘‘ Is there a good 
boy here?” only to be disappointed many 
times. 


127 


MOTHER STORIES 


North, south, east, and west, they 
searched; and at last, one afternoon, they 
halted under an oak tree, to talk, and they 
decided to part company. 

‘‘Let each take his own way,” said Tris- 
tram the True, “and to-morrow we will 
meet, under this same tree, and tell what 
we have seen ; for the time draws near when 
we must return to the king.” 

Then they bade each other farewell, and 
each rode away, except Sir Tristram, who 
lingered long under the oak tree ; for he was 
the leader, and had many things to think 
about. 

J ust as the sun was red in the west, he saw 
a little boy coming towards him, with a 
bundle of sticks on his back. 

“Greeting to you, little boy,” said he. 

“Greeting to you, fair sir,” said the boy, 
looking up with eager eyes at the knight on 
his splendid horse, that stood so still when 
the knight bade it. 

“ What is your name ? ’ ’ asked the knight. 

“ My name is little Gauvain,” replied the 
child. 


128 


SEARCH FOR A GOOD CHILD 


‘‘And can you prove a trusty guide, little 
Gauvain, and lead me to a pleasant place 
where I may rest to-night Flashed the 
knight. 

“Ay, that I can,"’ Gauvain answered 
gladly, his whole face lighting up with 
pleasure; but he added quickly, “I can, if 
you will wait until I carry my sticks to 
Granny Slowsteps, and bring her water 
from the spring; for I promised to be there 
before the setting of the sun.” 

Now little Gauvain wanted to help the 
good knight so much that he was soriy to 
say this; but Sir Tristram told him to run, 
and promised to wait patiently until his re- 
turn; and before many moments Gauvain 
was back, bounding like a fawn through the 
wood, to lead the way to his own home. 

When they came there the little dog ran 
out to meet them, and the cat rubbed up 
against Gauvain, and the mother called 
from the kitchen: — 

“ Is that my sunbeam coming home 
to roost?” which made Gauvain and the 
knight both laugh. 

129 


MOTHER STORIES 


Then the mother came out in haste to 
welcome the stranger; and she treated him 
with honor, giving him the best place at 
the table and the hottest cakes. 

She and little Gauvain lived all alone, 
for the father had gone to the wars when 
Gauvain was a baby, and had died fighting 
for the king. 

She had cows, horses, and pigs, hens, 
chickens, and a dog and a cat, and one 
treasure greater than a kingdom, for she 
had a good child in her house. 

Sir Tristram found this out very soon, 
for little Gauvain ran when he was called, 
remembered the cat and dog when he had 
eaten his own supper, and went to bed 
when he was told, without fretting, al- 
though the knight was telling of lions and 
bears and battles, and everything that lit- 
tle boys like to hear about. 

Sir Tristram was so glad of this that he 
could scarcely wait for the time to come 
when he should meet his comrades under 
the oak tree. 

“I have found a child whom you must 
130 



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SEARCH FOR A GOOD CHILD 


see/’ he said, as soon as they came to- 
gether. 

‘‘And so have I,” cried Gerald the Glad. 

“ And I,” exclaimed Kenneth the Kind. 

“And I,” said Brian the Brave. 

“And I,” said Percival the Pure; and 
they looked at each other in astonishment. 

“I do not know the child’s name,” con- 
tinued Gerald the Glad; “but as I was rid- 
ing in the forest I heard some one singing 
the merriest song ! And when I looked 
through the trees I saw a little boy bend- 
ing under a heavy burden. I hastened to 
help him, but when I reached the spot he 
was gone. I should like to hear him sing 
again.” 

“ I rode by the highway,” said Sir Brian 
the Brave, “and I came suddenly upon a 
crowd of great, rough fellows who were 
trying to torment a small black dog; and 
just as I saw them, a little boy ran up, as 
brave as a knight, and took the dog in his 
arms, and covered it with his coat. The 
rest ran away when I rode up ; but the child 
stayed, and told me his name — Gauvain.” 

131 


MOTHER STORIES 


‘‘ Why ! ** exclaimed Kenneth the Kind, 
*‘he is the boy who brings wood and water 
for Granny Slowsteps. I tarried all night at 
her cottage, and she toldmeofhiskindness.” 

I saw a lad at the spring near by,” 
said Percival the Pure. ‘‘He hurried to fill 
his bucket, and some rude clown muddied 
the water as the child reached down ; but 
he spoke no angry words, and waited pa- 
tiently till the water was clear again. I 
should like to find his home and see him 
there.” 

Now Sir Tristram had waited to hear 
them all; but when Sir Percival had fin- 
ished, he arose and cried : — 

“Come, and I will carry you to the 
child ! ” And when the knights followed 
him, he led them to the home where little 
Gauvain was working with his mother, as 
happy as a lark and as gentle as a dove. 

It was noonday, and the sun was shining 
brightly on the shields of the knights, and 
their plumes were waving in the breeze ; 
and when they reached the gate. Sir Tris- 
tram blew a loud blast on a silver trumpet. 

132 


SEARCH FOR A GOOD CHILD 


Then all the hens began to cackle, and 
the dog began to bark, and the horse began 
to neigh, and the pigs began to grunt; for 
they knew that it was a great day. And lit- 
tle Gauvain and his mother ran out to see 
what the matter was. 

When the knights saw Gauvain they 
looked at each other, and every one cried 
out: ‘‘ He is the child ! ” And Tristram the 
True said to the mother: — 

Greeting to you ! The king, our wise 
ruler, has sent us here to see your good 
child; for a good child is more precious 
than a kingdom. And the king offers him 
his love and favor if you will let him ride 
with us to live at the king’s court and learn 
to be a knight.” 

Little Gauvain and his mother were 
greatly astonished. They could scarcely be- 
lieve that such a thing had happened ; for it 
seemed very wonderful and beautiful that 
the king should send messengers to little 
Gauvain. After the knights had repeated 
it, though, they understood ; and little Gau- 
vain ran to his mother and put his arms 

133 


MOTHER STORIES 


around her; for he knew that if he went 
with the knights he must leave her, and 
the mother knew that if she let him go 
she must live without him. 

The rooster up on the fence crowed a 
very loud ‘‘ Cock-a-doodle-doo !’* to let 
everybody know he belonged to Gauvain ; 
and a little chick that had lost its mother 
cried, ‘‘Peep ! peep ! ’ ’ And when the mother 
heard this, she answered the knights and 
said : — 

“ I cannot spare my good child from my 
home. The king’s love is precious; but I 
love my child more than the whole world, 
and he is dearer to me than a thousand 
kingdoms.” 

Little Gauvain was so glad when he 
heard her answer that he looked again at 
the knights with a smiling face, and waved 
his hand to them as they rode away. All 
day and all night they rode, and it was the 
peep of day when they came to the king’s 
highway. Then they rode slowly, for they 
were sad because of their news; but the 
king rejoiced when he heard it, for he 


SEARCH FOR A GOOD CHILD 


said: ‘‘Such a child, with such a mother, 
will grow into a knight at home.” 

The king’s words were true; for when 
the king was an old, old man, Gauvain 
rode to his court and was knighted. 

Gauvain had a beautiful name of his 
own then, for he was called “ Gauvain the 
Good”; and he was brave, happy, kind, 
pure, and true. And he was beloved by all 
the people in the world, but most of all by 
his mother. 


135 




















THE 

CLOSING DOOR 


■37 


MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER 

Keep thou an open door between thy child's life 
and thine own. 


THE 

CLOSING DOOR 


There was once a little girl (her best and 
sweetest name was Little Daughter), who 
had a dear little room, all her own, which 
was full of treasures, and was as lovely as 
love could make it. 

Y ou never could imagine, no matter how 
you tried, a room more beautiful than hers; 
for it was white and shining from the snowy 
floor to the ceiling, which looked as if it 
might have been made of a fleecy cloud. 
The curtains at the windows were like the 
petals of a lily, and the little bed was like 
swan’s down. 

There were white pansies, too, that 
bloomed in the windows, and a dove whose 
voice was sweet as music; and among her 
treasures she had a string of pearls which 
she was to wear about her neck when the 
king of the country sent for her, as he had 
promised to do some day. 

This string of pearls grew longer and 

139 


MOTHER STORIES 


more beautiful as the little girl grew older, 
for a new pearl was given her as soon as she 
waked up each morning; and every one was 
a gift from this king, who bade her keep 
them fair. 

Her mother helped her to take care of 
them and of all the other beautiful things 
in her room. Every morning, after the new 
pearl was slipped on the string, they would 
set the room in order; and every evening 
they would look over the treasures and en- 
joy them together, while they carefully 
wiped away any specks of dust that had 
gotten in during the day and made the room 
less lovely. 

There were several doors and windows, 
which the little girl could open and shu t j ust 
as she pleased, in this room ; but there was 
one door which was always open, and that 
was the one which led into her mother’s 
room. 

No matter what Little Daughter was 
doing she was happier if her mother was 
near ; and although she sometimes ran away 
into her own room and played by herself^ 
140 


THE CLOSING DOOR 


she always bounded out at her mother’s first 
call, and sprang into her mother’s arms, 
gladder than ever to be with her because she 
had been away. 

Now one day when the little girl was 
playing alone, she had a visitor who came 
in without knocking and who seemed, at 
first, very much out of place in the shining 
white room, for he was a goblin and as black 
as a lump of coal. He had not been there 
more than a very few minutes, however, be- 
fore nearly everything in the room began to 
lookmore like him and lesslikedrivensnow: 
and although the little girl thought that he 
was very strange and ugly when she first 
saw him, she soon grew used to him, and 
found him an entertaining playfellow. 

She wanted to call her mother to see him; 
but he said: “Oh ! no; we are having such 
a nice time together, and she’s busy, you 
know.” So the little girl did not call; and the 
mother, who was making a dress of fine lace 
for her darling, did not dream that a goblin 
was in the little white room. 

The goblin did not make any noise, you 
141 


MOTHER STORIES 


know, for he tip-toed all the time, as if he 
were afraid; and if he heard a sound he 
would j ump. But he was a merry goblin, and 
he amused the little girl so much that she did 
not notice the change in her dear room. 

The curtains grew dingy, the floor dusty, 
and the ceiling looked as if it might have 
been made of a rain cloud; but the child 
played on, and got out all her treasures to 
show to her visitor. 

The pansies drooped and faded, the white 
dove hid its head beneath its wing and 
moaned ; and the last pearl on the precious 
string grew dark when the goblin touched 
it with his smutty fingers. 

‘‘Oh, dear me,’’ said the little girl when 
she saw this, “I must call my mother; for 
these are the pearls that I must wear to the 
king’s court, when he sends for me.” 

“Never mind,” said the goblin, “we can 
wash it, and if it isn’t just as white as be- 
fore, what difference does it make about 
one pearl?” 

“ But mother says that they all must be as 
fair as the morning,” insisted the little girl, 
142 





THE CLOSING DOOR 


ready to cry. ‘‘And what will she say when 
she sees this one?’" 

“ Y ou shut the door, then,” said the gob- 
lin, pointing to the door that had never 
been closed, “and I "11 wash the pearl.” So 
the little girl ran to close the door, and the 
goblin began to rub the pearl ; but it only 
seemed to grow darker. Now the door had 
been open so long that it was hard to move, 
and it creaked on its hinges as the little girl 
tried to close it. When the mother heard this 
she looked up to see what was the matter. 
She had been thinking about the dress 
which she was making; but when she saw 
the closing door, her heart stood still with 
fear ; for she knew that if it once closed tight 
she might never be able to open it again. 

She dropped her fine laces and ran to- 
wards the door, calling, “Little Daughter! 
Little Daughter 1 Where are you ? ” and she 
reached out her hands to stop the door. But 
as soon as the little girl heard that loving 
voice she answered : — 

“Mother, oh! Mother! I need you so! 
my pearl is turning black and everything is 

143 


MOTHER STORIES 


wrong ! and, flinging the door wide open, 
she ran into her mother’s arms. 

When the two went together into the 
little room, the goblin had gone. The pan- 
sies now bloomed again, and the white dove 
cooed in peace; but there was much work 
for the mother and daughter, and they 
rubbed andscrubbed and washed and swept 
and dusted, till the room was so beautiful 
that you would not have known that a gob- 
lin had been there — except for the onepearl 
which was a little blue always, even when 
the king was ready for Little Daughter to 
come to his court, although that was not 
until she was a very old woman. 

As for the door, it was never closed again ; 
for Little Daughter and her mother put two 
golden hearts against it and nothing in this 
world could have shut it then. 


144 



THE 

MINSTREL’S SONG 




145 


MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER 

^be child must listen well if he would hear, 
— Blow^s Commentaries, 


146 


THE 

MINSTREL’S SONG 


Once, long, long ago, there lived in a 
country over the sea a king called Rene, 
who married a lovely princess whose name 
was Imogen. 

Imogen came across the seas to the 
king’s beautiful country, and all his people 
welcomed her with great joy because the 
king loved her. 

‘‘ What can I do to please thee to-day ? ” 
the king asked her every morning; and 
one day the queen answered that she would 
like to hear all the minstrels in the king’s 
country, for they were said to be the finest 
in the w^orld. 

As soon as the king heard this, he called 
his heralds and sent them everywhere 
through his land to sound their trumpets 
and call aloud: — 

“Hear,ye minstrels! King Rene, our gra- 
cious king, bids ye come to play at his court 
onMay-day,forloveoftheC^eenImogen.” 

147 


MOTHER STORIES 


The minstrels were men who sang 
beautiful songs and played on harps; a^id 
long ago they went about from place to 
place, from castle to castle, from palace to 
cot, and were always sure of a welcome 
wherever they roamed. 

They could sing of the brave deeds that 
the knights had done, and of wars and bat- 
tles, and could tell of the mighty hunters 
who hunted in the great forests, and of fair- 
ies and goblins, better than a story book ; 
and because there were no story books in 
those days, everybody, from little children 
to the king, was glad to see them come. 

So when the minstrels heard the king’s 
message, they made haste to the palace on 
May-day ; and it so happened that some of 
them met] on the way and decided to travel 
together. 

One of these minstrels was a young man 
named Harmonius; and while the others 
talked of the songs that they would sing, 
he gathered the wild flowers that grew by 
the roadside. 

‘‘ I can sing of the drums and battles,” 
148 


THE MINSTREL’S SONG 


said the oldest minstrel, whose hair was 
white and whose step was slow. 

can sing of ladies and their fair 
faces,” said the youngest minstrel; but 
Harmonius whispered : Listen ! listen ! ” 
“ Oh ! we hear nothing but the wind in 
the tree-tops,” said the others. ‘‘We have 
no time to stop and listen.” 

Then they hurried on and left Har- 
monius ; and he stood under the trees and 
listened, for he heard something very sweet. 
At last he knew that it was the wind sing- 
ing of its travels through the wide world ; 
telling how it raced over the blue sea, toss- 
ing the waves and rocking the white ships, 
and hurried on to the hills, where the trees 
made harps of their branches, and then how 
it blew down into the valleys, where all the 
flowers danced gayly in time to the tune. 

Harmonius could understand every 
word: — 

“ Nobody follows me where I go. 

Over the mountains or valleys below; 
Nobody sees where the wild winds blow. 
Only the Father in Heaven can know** 
149 


MOTHER STORIES 


That was the chorus of the wind’s song. 
Harmonius listened until he knew the 
whole song from beginning to end; and 
then he ran on and soon reached his 
friends, who were still talking of the grand 
sights that they were to see. 

‘‘We shalTsee the king and speak to 
him,” said the oldest minstrel. 

“And his golden crown and the queen’s 
jewels,” added the youngest; and Harmo- 
nius had no chance to tell of the wind’s 
song, although he thought about it time 
and again. 

Now their path led them through the 
wood; and as they talked, Harmonius 
said : — 

“Hush! listen!” But the others an- 
swered: — 

“ Oh ! that is only the sound of the brook 
trickling over the stones. Let us make haste 
to the king’s court.” 

But Harmonius stayed to hear the song 
that the brook was singing, of jour- 
neying through mosses and ferns and 
shady ways, and of tumbling over the 
150 


THE MINSTREL’S SONG 


rocks in shining waterfalls on its way to 
the sea. 

Rippling^jind bubbling through shade and 
sun^ 

On to the beautiful sea I run; 

Singing forever, though none be near. 

For God in Heaven can always hearf 
sang the little brook. Harmonius listened 
until he knew every word of the song, and 
then he hurried on. 

When he reached the others, he found 
them still talking of the king and queen, 
so he could not tell them of the brook. As 
they talked, he heard something again 
that was wonderfully sweet, and he cried : 
^‘Listen! listen!” 

‘‘Oh! that is only a bird!” the others 
replied. “ Let us make haste to the king’s 
court ! ” 

But Harmonius would not go, for the 
bird sang so joyfully that Harmonius 
laughed aloud when he heard the song. 

It was singing a song of green trees, and 
in every tree a nest, and in every nest eggs ! 
Oh! the bird was so gay as it sang; — 

151 


MOTHER STORIES 


Merrily, merrily, listen to me. 

Flitting and flying from tree to tree. 
Nothing fear I, by land or sea. 

For God in Heaven is watching me^ 

“Thank you, little bird,’' said Harmo- 
nius; “you have taught me a song.” And 
he made haste to join his comrades, for by 
this time they were near the palace. 

When they had gone in, they received a 
hearty welcome, and were feasted in the 
great hall before they came before the king. 

The king and queen sat on their throne 
together. The king thought of the queen 
and the minstrels; but the queen thought 
of her old home, and of the butterflies she 
had chased when she was a little child. 

One by one the minstrels played before 
them. 

The oldest minstrel sang of battles and 
drums, just as he had said he would ; and the 
youngest minstrel sang of ladies and their 
fair faces, which pleased the court ladies 
very much. 

Then came Harmonius. And when he 
touched his harp and sang, the song sounded 
152 



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THE MINSTREL’S SONG 


like the wind blowing, the sea roaring, and 
the trees creaking ; then it grew very soft, 
and sounded like a trickling brook drip- 
ping on stones and running over little peb- 
bles ; and while the king and queen and all 
the court listened in surprise, Harmonius’ 
song grew sweeter, sweeter, sweeter. It was 
as if you heard all the birds in Spring. And 
then the song was ended. 

The queen clapped her hands, and the 
ladies waved their handkerchiefs, and the 
king came down from his throne to ask 
Harmonius if he came from fairyland with 
such a wonderful song. But Harmonius 
answered : — 

Three singers sang along our way, 

And I learned the song from them to-day 
Now, all the other minstrels looked up 
in surprise when Harmonius said this; and 
the oldest minstrel said to the king : ‘‘ Har- 
monius is dreaming! We heard no music 
on our way to-day.” 

And the youngest minstrel said: ‘‘Har- 
monius is surely mad! We met nobody on 
our way to-day.” 


153 


MOTHER STORIES 


But the queen said: ‘‘That is an old, old 
song. I heard it when I was a little child ; 
and I can name the singers three.” And so 
she did. Can you.? 


154 


DUST UNDER THE 

RUG 


155 


MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER 

Well for the child ^ well for the man^ to whom 
throughout life the voice of conscience is the proph- 
ecy and pledge of an abiding union with God! 

Froebel. 


DUST UNDER THE 
RUG 


There was once a mother, who had two 
little daughters ; and, as her husband was 
dead and she was very poor, she worked 
diligently all the time that they might be 
well fed and clothed. She was a skilled 
worker, and found work to do away from 
home, but her two little girls were so good 
and so helpful that they kept her house as 
neat and as bright as a new pin. 

One of the little girls was lame, and could 
not run about the house; so she sat still in 
her chair and sewed, while Minnie, the sis- 
ter, washed the dishes, swept the floor, and 
made the home beautiful. 

Their home was on the edge of a great 
forest; and after their tasks were finished 
the little girls would sit at the window and 
watch the tall trees as they bent in the wind, 
until it would seem as though the trees were 
real persons, nodding and bending and bow- 
ing to each other. 


157 


MOTHER STORIES 


In the Spring there were the birds, in the 
Summer the wild flowers, in Autumn the 
bright leaves, and in Winter the great drifts 
of white snow; so that the whole year was a 
round of delight to the two happy children. 
But one day the dear mother came home 
sick; and then they were very sad. It was 
Winter, and there were many things to buy. 
Minnie and her little sister sat by the fire and 
talked it over, and at last Minnie said : — 

‘‘ Dear sister, I must go out to find work, 
before the food givesout.’’ Soshe kissed her 
mother, and, wrapping herself up, started 
from home. There was a narrow path lead- 
ing through the forest, and she determined 
to follow it until she reached some place 
where she might find the work she wanted. 

As she hurried on, the shadows grew 
deeper. The night was coming fast when 
she saw before her a very small house, which 
was a welcome sight. She made haste to 
reach it, and to knock at the door. 

Nobody came in answer to her knock. 
When she had tried again and again, she 
thought that nobody lived there ; and she 
158 


DUST UNDER THE RUG 


opened the door and walked in, thinking 
that she would stay all night. 

As soon as she stepped into the house, 
she started back in surprise ; for there before 
her she saw twelve little beds with the bed- 
clothes all tumbled, twelve little dirty plates 
on a very dusty table, and the floor of the 
room so dusty that I am sure you could have 
drawn a picture on it. 

‘‘Dear me!’' said the little girl, “this 
will never do 1 ” And as soon as she had 
warmed her hands, she set to work to make 
the room tidy. 

She washed the plates, she made up the 
beds, she swept the floor, she straightened 
the great rug in front of the fireplace, and 
set the twelve little chairs in a half circle 
around the fire ; and, just as she finished, the 
door opened and in walked twelve of the 
queerest little people she had ever seen. 
They were just about as tall as a carpenter’s 
rule, and all wore yellow clothes ; and when 
Minnie saw this, she knew that they must 
be the dwarfs who kept the gold in the 
heart of the mountain. 

159 


MOTHER STORIES 


Well! '’said the dwarfs all together, for 
they always spoke together and in rhyme. 
Now is nt this a sweet surprise ? 

We really can V believe our eyes! " 
Then they spied Minnie, and cried in 
great astonishment: — 

‘‘ Who can this he^ so fair and mild ? 

Our helper is a stranger child y 
Now when Minnie saw the dwarfs, she 
came to meet them. ‘Hf you please," she 
said, ‘H'm little Minnie Grey; and I'm 
looking for work because my dear mother 
is sick. I came in here when the night drew 
near, and — " here all the dwarfs laughed, 
and called out merrily : — 

^^Tou found our room a sorry sights 
But you have made it clean and bright^ 
They were such dear funny little dwarfs! 
After they had thanked Minnie for her trou- 
ble, they took white bread and honey from 
the closet and asked her to sup with them. 

While they sat at supper, they told her 
that their fairy housekeeper had taken a 
holiday, and their house was not well kept, 
because she was away. 

i6o 


DUST UNDER THE RUG 


They sighed when they said this; and 
aftersupper, whenMinniewashedthedishes 
and set them carefully away, they looked at 
her often and talked among themselves. 
When the last plate was in its place they 
called Minnie to them and said : — 

‘‘ Dear mortal maiden will you stay 
All through our fairy's holiday ? 

And if you faithful prove ^ and goody 
We will reward you as we should!' 

Now Minnie was much pleased, for she 
liked the kind dwarfs, and wanted to help 
them, so she thanked them, and went to 
bed to dream happy dreams. 

Next morning she was awake with the 
chickens, and cooked a nice breakfast ; and 
after the dwarfs left, she cleaned up the room 
and mended thedwarfs' clothes. Intheeven- 
ing when the dwarfs came home, they found 
a bright fire and a warm supper waiting for 
them ; and every day Minnie worked faith- 
fully until the last day of the fairy house- 
keeper’s holiday. 

That morning, as Minnie looked out of 
the window to watch the dwarfs go to their 

i6i 


MOTHER STORIES 


work, she saw on one of the window panes 
the most beautiful picture she had ever seen. 

A picture of fairy palaces with towers of 
silver and frosted pinnacles, so wonderful 
and beautiful that as she looked at it she for- 
got that there was work to be done, until the 
cuckoo clock on the mantel struck twelve. 

Then she ran in haste to make up the 
beds, and wash the dishes ; but because she 
was in a hurry she could not work quickly, 
and when she took the broom to sweep the 
floor it was almost time for the dwarfs to 
come home. ^ 

“I believe,’’ said Minnie aloud, “that I 
will not sweep under the rug to-day. After 
all, it is nothing for dust to be where it 
can’t be seen ! ” So she hurried to her sup- 
per and left the rug unturned. 

Before long the dwarfs came home. As 
the rooms looked just as usual, nothing was 
said; and Minnie thought no more of the 
dust until she went to bed and the stars 
peeped through the window. 

Then she thought of it, for it seemed to 
her that she could hear the stars saying: — 
162 



AH the little dwarfs came running out to see 
what was the matter. 



DUST UNDER THE RUG 


“ There is the little girl who is so faith- 
ful and good”; and Minnie turned her 
face to the wall, for a little voice, right in 
her own heart, said: — 

“Dust under the rug! dust under the 
rug!” 

“There is the little girl,” cried the stars, 
“who keeps home as bright as star-shine.” 

“Dust under the rug! dust under the 
rug!” said the little voice in Minnie’s 
heart. 

“We see her! we see her!” called all 
the stars joyfully. 

“Dust under the rug! dust under the 
rug!” said the little voice in Minnie’s 
heart, and she could bear it no longer. So 
she sprang out of bed, and, taking her 
broom in her hand, she swept the dust 
away ; and lo ! under the dust lay twelve 
shining gold pieces, as round and as bright 
as the moon. 

“Oh! oh! oh!” cried Minnie, in great 
surprise ; and all the little dwarfs came run- 
ning to see what was the matter. 

Minnie told them all about it ; and when 
163 


MOTHER STORIES 


she had ended her story, the dwarfs gath- 
ered lovingly around her and said: — 
Dear child^ the gold is all for you. 

For faithful you have proved and true; 
But had you left the rug unturned, 

A groat was all you would have earned. 
Our love goes with the gold we give. 
And oh! forget not while you live. 

That in the smallest duty done 
Lies wealth of joy for every one'* 
Minnie thanked the dwarfs for their 
kindness to her; and early next morning 
she hastened home with her golden treas- 
ure, which bought many good things for 
the dear mother and little sister. 

She never saw the dwarfs again ; but she 
never forgot their lesson, to do her work 
faithfully ; and she always swept under the 
rug. 


164 


THE STORY OF 
GRE TCHEN 





165 


MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER 

Oh I like a wreath y let Christmas mirth 
"To-day encircle all the earthy 
And bind the nations with the love 
That Jesus brought from heaven above. 


166 


THE STORY OF 
GRETCHEN 


It was almost Christmas time when one 
of the white ships that sail across the sea 
brought a little German girl named Gret- 
chen, with her father and mother, to find 
a new home in our dear land. 

Gretchen knew all about Christmas. 
She had heard the story of the loving 
Christ Child over and over, and in her 
home in Germany she had kept His birth- 
day and enjoyed it ever since she could re- 
member. 

Every year, a little before Christmas, 
her shoes had been placed in the garden 
for Rupert, who is one of Santa Claus’s 
German helpers, to fill, and every year she 
had found a Christmas tree lighted for her 
on Christmas Day. She wondered a little, 
as she came across the ocean, how she 
would keep Christmas in the new country; 
and she wondered still more, when they 
reached a great city, and had their ‘‘boxes” 
167 


MOTHER STORIES 


carried up so many stairs to a little room 
in a boarding-house. 

Gretchen’s mother did not like board- 
ing-houses — no, indeed! — and their first 
thought was to find a place where they 
might feel at home; but the very next 
morning after their long journey the dear 
father was too ill to lift his head from the 
pillow, and Gretchen and her mother were 
very sad for many days. Up so high in a 
boarding-house is not pleasant (even if you 
do seem nearer the stars) when somebody 
you love is sick; and then, too, Gretchen 
began to think that Santa Claus and Rupert 
had forgotten her; for when she set her 
two little wooden shoes outside the door, 
they were never filled with goodies, and 
people stumbled over them and scolded. 

The tears would roll down Gretchen’s 
fat,rosy cheeks,and fallintothe emptyshoes, 
and she decided that the people in Amer- 
ica did not keep Christmas, and wished she 
was in her own Germany again. One day, 
however, a good woman in the house felt 
sorry for the lonely little German girl, who 
i68 


THE STORY OF GRETCHEN 


could speak no English, and she asked 
Gretchen’s mother if Gretchen might go 
with her to see the beautiful stores. She 
was only a poor woman, and had no pres- 
ents to give away ; but she knew how to be 
kind to Gretchen, and she took her hand 
and smiled at her very often as they hur- 
ried along the crowded street. 

It was the day before Christmas, and 
throngs of people were moving here and 
there, and Gretchen was soon bewildered, 
and she was jostled and pushed until she 
was tired; but at last they stepped into a 
store which made her blue eyes open wide, 
for it was a toy store, and the most beauti- 
ful place she had ever seen. There were 
toys in that store that had come across the 
sea like Gretchen ; there were lovely dolls 
from France, who were spending their first 
Christmas away from home; there were 
woolly sheep, fine painted soldiers, and 
dainty furniture, and a whole host of won- 
derful toys marked very carefully, “ Made 
in Germany"’; and even the Japanese, from 
their island in the great ocean, had sent 
169 


MOTHER STORIES 


their funny slant-eyed dolls to help us keep 
Christmas. 

Oh ! it was splendid to be in the toyshop 
the day before Christmas ! All the tin sol- 
diers stood up so straight and tall, look- 
ing as if they were just ready to march 
when the big drums and the little drums, 
which hung over their heads, should call 
them. 

The rocking horses, which are always 
saddled, were waiting to gallop away. The 
topswere anxious to spin,and the balls really 
rolled about sometimes, because it was so 
hard for them to keep still. 

The fine lady dolls were dressed in their 
best. One of them was a princess, and wore 
a white satin dress, and had a crown on her 
head. She sat on a throne in one of the win- 
dows, with all the other dolls around her; and 
it wasin this very window that Gretchen saw 
a baby doll, which made her forget all the 
rest. It was a real baby doll, not nearly so 
fine as most of the others, but with a look on 
its face as if it wanted to be loved; and 
Gretchen’s warm German heart went out 
170 


THE STORY OF GRETCHEN 


to it, for little mothers are the same all the 
world over. 

Such a dear baby doll! She must have 
been made for a Christmas gift, Gretchen 
thought ; and if the good giver came to this 
queer American land, he surely would find 
her. How could she let him know where 
she was? She thought about it all the way 
home, and all day long, till the gas was 
lighted down in the great city and the stars 
were lighted up above, and the time of his 
coming drew very near. 

The father was better ; but the mother 
had said with tears in her eyes, that there 
could be no Christmas tree for them that 
year. So Gretchen did not worry them, but 
she wrapped herself up in a blanket and 
shawl, and, taking her shoes in her hand, she 
crept down the stairs, through the door, out 
to the wooden stoop. There had been a 
light fall of snow that day, but it was a mild 
Christmas, and Gretchen set her shoes 
evenly together, and then sat down beside 
them ; for she had made up her mind to 
watch them until Santa Claus came by. 
171 


MOTHER STORIES 


All over the city the bells were ringing, 
— calling Merry Christmas’’ to each 
other and to the world ; and they sang so 
sweetly to little Gretchen that they sang her 
to sleep that Christmas Eve. 

It was hundreds and hundreds of years 
since the Christ Child slept in the manger; 
but this same night in the great city a little 
American girl named Margaret had her 
heart so full of His love and joy that she 
wanted to make everybody happy for the 
dear Christ’s sake. 

She had waked up early the day before 
Christmas, and all day long she had been 
doing loving deeds ; and when evening 
came, and the bells began to ring, she started 
with a basket of toys to a mission church, 
where she was to help Santa Claus by giv- 
ing gifts to the children of the poor. 

Her papa was with her, and they were so 
glad that they sang gay Christmas carols, 
and kept time to them with their feet as 
they hurried down the street, right by the 
wooden stoop, just as Gretchen fell asleep 
by her empty shoes. The moon had seen 
172 



The clearest Christmas Gift that ever eame to a 
homesick little girl. 



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THE STORY OF GRETCHEN 


those empty shoes, and was filling them 
with moonbeams. The stars had seen them, 
and peeped into them with pity; and when 
Margaret and her father saw them they 
cried out to each other, for they had been in 
Germany, and they knew that the little 
owner was waiting for the good Saint 
Nicholas. 

‘^What can we give her?’’ whispered 
Margaret’s papa, as he looked down at his 
bundles ; but Margaret knew, for she took 
from her basket a baby doll — one that 
looked as if it wanted to be loved — and 
laid it tenderly across the wooden shoes. 
Then Margaret lifted a corner of the blan- 
ket from Gretchen’s rosy face and shouted 
Merry Christmas ! ” with so much hearti- 
ness that the little girl woke with a start to 
find, not Margaret and her papa, for they 
had run away, but, oh! wonder of won- 
ders! the dearest Christmas gift that ever 
came to a homesick little girl, and made 
her feel at home. 

Oh ! all the bells were singing and ring- 
ing, and Margaret and her papa answered 

173 


MOTHER STORIES 


them with their merry Christmas carol, as 
they sped on their way. 

Carol, brothers, carol! 

Carol merrily! 

Carol the glad tidings, 

Carol cheerily! 

And pray a gladsome Christmas 
To all our fellowmen, 

Carol, brothers, carol! 

Christmas Day again,'' 


174 


THE 

KING’S BIRTHDAY 


MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER 

Let the child feel Christ is near him ; 

By your faith will grow his own ; 

Death nor danger will affright him 
If he never feels alone. 


176 


THE 

KING’S BIRTHDAY 


Little Carl and his mother came home 
from the country one sweet summer day, 
because it was the king’s birthday, and all 
the city was to be glad and gay, and the 
king would ride on his fine gray horse for 
the people to see. 

Little Carl had gathered a very fine 
bunch of flowers to throw before the king. 
He had marigolds and pinks and pansies, 
and they had all grown in his mother’s 
garden. 

This was a great day for little boy Carl, 
and before he started from home he told 
everything good-bye, — the brindle calf 
and the mooley cow and the sheep and 
little white lambs. 

‘^Good-bye!” he said; am going to 
see the king.” 

The way was long, but Carl did not 
complain. He trudged bravely on by his 
mother’s side, holding the flowers tightly 
177 


MOTHER STORIES 


in his little hand, and looking out of his 
great blue eyes for the king, in case the 
king should ride out to meet them. 

Every now and then Carl wished for his 
father, who was obliged to work in the 
fields all day, and who had been up and 
away before Carl was awake. Carl thought 
of the fine sights his father was missing, 
especially when they came to the city, 
where the flags were flying from every 
steeple and housetop and window. 

There were as many people in the city 
as there were birds in the country; and 
when the drums beat, the crowd rushed 
forward and everybody called at once: 
“The king! the king! Long live the 
king!’’ 

Carl’s mother lifted him up in her arms 
that he might see. The king rode slowly 
along on his great gray horse, with all his 
fine ladies and gentlemen behind him ; and 
little Carl threw his flowers with the rest 
and waved his cap in his hand. 

He felt sorry for his flowers after he had 
thrown them, because they were trampled 
178 


THE KING’S BIRTHDAY 


under the horses’ feet and the king didn’t 
care; and after that he felt very tired, and 
his little hot hand slipped from his moth- 
er’s and he w^as carried away in the crowd. 

He thought that his mother would 
surely come. But there were only strange 
faces about him, and he was such a little 
lad that nobody noticed him; and at last 
he was left behind, all alone. 

He was very miserable, and the tears 
rolled down his cheeks; but he remem- 
bered that it was the king’s birthday, and 
that everybody must be glad, so he wiped 
the tears away as he trudged along. 

There were wonderful houses along the 
street, with great gardens in front ; and Carl 
thought that they must belong to the king, 
but he did not want to go in. They were 
all too fine for him. But at last he reached 
one which stood off by itself and had a tall, 
tall steeple and great doors, through which 
hundreds of people were coming. 

‘‘ Perhaps my mamma is there,” thought 
little Carl. After he had watched all the 
people come out, and had not seen her, 
179 


MOTHER STORIES 


he went up the white marble steps and 
through the doors, and found himself all 
alone in a very beautiful place. 

The roof of the house was held up by 
great strong pillars, and the floor had as 
many patterns on it as his mother’s patch- 
work ; and on every side he saw windows, 
— beautiful windows like picture books, — 
and when he had seen one, he wanted to 
see another, as you do when you are look- 
ing at picture books. 

Some of the windows had jewels and 
crowns upon them; some had sheaves of 
lilies; and others had lovely faces and men 
with harps; and at last he came to one 
great window which was different from 
the rest and lovelier than any of them. 

The other windows were like picture 
books, but this one was like home; for 
there were sheep in it and flowers, and a 
dear, gentle Man, with a loving face, and 
He had a lamb in His arms. 

When little Carl looked at this window, 
he crept very close under it, and, laying his 
head on his arm, sobbed himself to sleep. 
i8o 



** Mother, mother, here am I ! 


ft 





THE KING’S BIRTHDAY 


While he slept, the sunbeams came 
through the window and made bright cir- 
cles round his head ; and the white doves 
that lived in the church tower flew through 
an open window to look at him. 

“ It is good to live in the church tower,” 
cooed the white doves to each other,/‘ for 
the bells are up there ; and then we can fly 
down here and see the dear Christ’s face. 
See! here is one of his little ones!” 

Coo, coo,” said the white doves softly ; 
‘‘we cannot speak so loudly as the bells, 
nor make ourselves heard so far; but we 
can fly where we please, and they must stay 
always up there.” 

All this cooing did not wake little boy 
Carl, for he was dreaming a beautiful dream 
about a king who had a face like the Good 
Man in the window, and who was carry- 
ing Carl in His arms instead of a lamb, 
and was taking him to his mother ; and he 
dreamed that just as they reached her, Carl 
woke up, for he heard somebody talking in 
- the church. 

He lay still and listened, for this seemed 


MOTHER STORIES 


part of the dream. Somebody was talking 
about him, and the words were very plain 
to Carl: — 

*‘Dear Father in Heaven, I have lost my 
little boy. I am like Mary seeking for the 
Christ Child. For His sake, give me my 
little child!*' 

Carl knew that voice, and in an instant 
he ran out crying: — 

“Mother! mother! here am I!" 

And in all the joy of the king’s birth- 
day, there was no joy so great as theirs. 


182 


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